Mark Me
by T. Alana M
Summary: Ten years after Vegetasei's destruction, the saiyans escape HFIL and inhabit human bodies. Bulma is determined to find out more about the alien in her dreams and the boy who stole her Dragon Balls. B/V.
1. Chapter 1

**Alright, this is a new one. Apologies in advance because Vegeta's going to be an asshole for a while, but hey, what else can you expect from him?**

**Disclaimer: Not mine**

* * *

**Vegetasai, 737**

"Sir, Bardock's gone insane."

The soldier knelt before the throne as he reported. He hid his nervousness as the other men glared at him from lines on either side of the King. Saiyans were a violent bunch and these people, already agitated by the Prince's abduction, were itching for a chance to spill blood. He just hoped it wouldn't be his.

King Vegeta ignored the soldier. The fear he could feel emanating from the man would have earned him a flogging on any other day, but right now there were much more pressing matters to deal with.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Today was a disaster of universal levels. Earlier, a babe had been born with power to rival his son's. Luckily, it was quickly discovered before any dissent could form. Both the child and his father had been executed on the spot, to prevent any uprisings or future power play, as there was bound to be if two strong individuals contested for the throne.

His gaze turned to the windows. His son was just outside the planet's atmosphere, in the large spaceship stationed out there.

There had been an uprising discussed for months, of course. The Saiyan race would not stand to be ruled by a bastard lizard and his cronies. But Zarbon had come to retrieve the boy earlier than he had thought, and it threw a wrench in their plans. He had had no choice but to hand the boy over, and watch his small features glare at him with betrayal.

_It's alright son. We'll get you back. I swear it._

"King Vegeta?"

He started, then quickly leveled a glare at the man who had spoken. "What?"

The soldier gulped. "Well, sir, I was asking you what we're to do about Bardock."

King Vegeta opened his mouth to tell the soldier that he didn't care what some low class scientist needed, because his son was _out there _with the son of a bitch who was doing _fuck knows what _to his son—

_"FRIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEZZZZZZZAAAAAAAA!"_

He paused, pointing at the door. "Bardock?"

The soldier nodded wearily. "So what are we to do with him, sir?"

King Vegeta grinned. "Why, nothing. He's got the right idea."

"Sir?"

"We're staging a rebellion and getting my son back."

* * *

"Frieza, I'm _bored."_

The tyrant's red eyes flickered to meet his briefly in the reflective window. He knew that Frieza could and would kill him if he was insubordinate but he was just so _bored. _A prince should not be subjected to this amount of dullness! (He was never bored with people to prank at the palace. Here, anyone he yelled at yelled at him back and he did not like that.) The saibamen were weak, the technicians simpering morons, and the only other saiyan he got stuck with was a low, ass-kissing old man of a babysitter!

He was bored_._

He glanced up at Zarbon as the man(woman? transvestite? it was debatable, at this point. His mother never groomed for quite as many hours as Zarbon did.) scolded him for being 'disrespectful' to his(her? zir?) boyfriend. Or girlfriend, really. He was even less sure about Frieza's gender than Zarbon's.

He prepared to shift into a fighting stance. It was probably suicide, but he was so damn _bored. _

_"_Oh, let the boy go, Zarbon. He doesn't mean any harm."

His head jerked up to stare at the tyrant. (His lips were black, he wondered if that was a product of drinking too much wine or if the wine was not wine, but blood.) From what he had heard, there was no way that Frieza would have allowed him on an important purge mission so early, even if he was more than capable.

_Perhaps he has finally realized my true potential, _he thought. But it was doubtful, seeing as he had only just met the lizard today.

Not yet suspicious enough to question his good fortune, he bowed and left. He didn't notice the lizard's eyes locked greedily on the red planet outside.

* * *

"Sir, this is madness!"

"If madness is what will get me my son back, then mad I am." King Vegeta replied, pulling the space pod's door open.

"But sir," Zorn protested. He was the only one who did. The other Saiyans were already in their pods, bloodthirsty and eager. "The plan isn't ready yet!"

"The plan," King Vegeta cut in sharply, "involved my son being by my side."

"Don't be so selfish!" Zorn exploded. "You're not the only one with a family!"

The king glared at him. He saw his life flash before his eyes.

"S-sir, I didn't mean-" he stuttered.

"Get in your pod."

He did.

* * *

Vegeta was in his space pod. It wasn't as fancy or fast as the royal pods, and he'd have to remember to make a complaint later. For now, he was just glad that he could play.

'Purge', Frieza had said. He didn't quite understand why the other aliens found it so distasteful. Sure, the opponents were weak, so there were no battle accomplishments to brag of, but it was still something to do.

_"It isn't that, Vegeta," _Nappa had explained once. _"The soft-bellied little shits get queasy when they kill, see."_

No, he didn't see. Killing weaklings were no different from killing saibamen, which was essentially plucking weeds. Killing plants was alright, his mother told him so. Plants were replaceable.

_"Father, what is killing?"_

_King Vegeta cocked his head contemplatively. "Well, killing is... See this plant?"_

_He watched the seed grow into an ugly humanoid creature. With its bulbous head, three fingers on each limb, and grotesque red eyes, it was an ugly thing. He decided that it was like one of his toys, but animated._

_King Vegeta shot a beam of ki at the creature and it exploded._

_"That's killing."_

The sleeping gas took effect and he dreamt of ripping heads off faceless green dolls.

* * *

"What do you mean he's not here!?"

The soldier cowered in his hiding spot, hands shaking as he held the scouter to his ear. "W-well, apparently he's been sent on a purge mission, sir-"

"A PURGE?"

He winced, pulling the scouter away. "Yes sir."

The silence lasted so long that he was tempted to say something just to break its awkwardness. Luckily, Zorn spared him.

"Do you want to abandon the mission sir?"

The soldier felt his blood boil into something more carnal. He could not be denied the blood of his enemies! That idiot Zorn had no right to bring everyone down with his fucking cowardly ways. They would win the battle, kill Frieza and get the Prince back. And if they got to fight a few strong fighters along the way, then that was just a bonus.

"We're not abandoning the mission. You can stop growling, soldier."

* * *

Bardock groaned. The king hadn't believed him. No one had.

He rubbed the back of his head where a bump was forming. For ass-kissing lapdogs, those elites packed a punch. Maybe his son would one day be one.

He grunted and picked himself up, mindful of his injuries. Dragging himself back to the palace gates, he squared his shoulders and said, "I want to speak to the king."

"You again," the guard glared. "We told you, runt. The king doesn't want to see a lunatic like you, so bugger off. He even got off the freaking planet to get away from all that screaming. Tale a fucking hint, will you?"

Bardock felt his heart stop. "What do you mean he's off world?"

The guard shrugged. "He said something about killing Frieza. And I'm telling you, we'd all be glad to get rid of that lizard bast-hey, where the fuck are you going?"

Bardock took off to the sky, features grim.

_I hope I'm not too late._

* * *

Frieza smirked as he stared down at King Vegeta's corpse.

The man had been foolish. Had he really thought that he would get his son back with only a group of trained monkeys? Of course he had. They were arrogant little shits, all bark and no bite.

Ah, but he hadn't been so arrogant in the end there, had he? There was fear in his eyes- -pure, delicious desperation for himself and his son

His son. Now there was a keeper. The boy was still young, but he had the makings of a fighter. There was a vibrant _fire _in his eyes that was simply so refreshing amidst the dull creatures on his ship. This one wouldn't be as easy to break as the others, Frieza thought.

But Frieza knew people, and the way to break a man was to break his hope. If there was a slightest chance of reprieve, the man would continue to hope and he would never break. So you start by destroying what he holds dear.

It was just too bad that Vegeta's planet would soon be destroyed by that pesky asteroid.

* * *

Vegeta's pod landed with a crash.

He pulled himself out of the pod, disoriented. Space travel had always made him queasy.

His senses spiked and he jumped high to avoid the ki blast.

Vegeta analyzed his enemies. They were green and small, like saibamen, with power levels of barely under a thousand.

He grinned. Perfect.

* * *

Bardock screamed as Frieza rose from his spaceship. The bastard was covered in blood-the king's blood.

"You won't get away with this!" Bardock shouted, forming a ki attack even as Frieza created his own.

Frieza's smirk widened. He threw his ki ball.

The planet, along with Bardock, exploded.

* * *

Bodies formed a circular pile of charred flesh. The corpses were in various states of mutilation, burning and _dead._

In the centre of the circle, Vegeta crouched.

_"Prince Vegeta, do you copy, sir?"_

"I'm here," he snapped around his energy bar. Stupid technicians never had anything good to report.

_"Sir, I have urgent news from Lord Frieza. Planet Vegeta was struck by a large asteroid today, a-and destroyed."_

He grunted. "You're sure?"

_"Affirmative, sir."_

Well. That was inconvenient. Father had told him that he and mother were irreplaceable, after all, unlike the plants.

_"Frieza sends his sympathies and regrets."_

Bullshit. This was Frieza's fault somehow. He stared at his ration bar, imagining it turning pink and growing horns, with a black smile.

_"As of now, you're the only known survivor."_

"Oh." he said. Because what else was there _to _say?

_"Would you like to send a reply, sir?"_

"No," he crushed the Frieza-bar. "No reply."


	2. Chapter 2, Breaking

**Disclaimer: Not mine**

**Well, here's the next chapter. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Check-in station, 737 AD**

King Vegeta opened his eyes to find himself standing in a long queue.

He jumped back, putting as much distance between him and the other people as he could. Instinctively crouching into a fighting stance, Vegeta Sr let his tail lash behind him and his lips pull back to reveal sharp canines. An animalistic snarl tore from his throat as he glared at the ogres approaching him.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down-" an ogre began.

"What is this place?" he growled. "Where am I? Where is Frieza?"

"Frieza isn't here-" another ogre tried to say.

"Then where is he?" he demanded. "Where is Frieza?"

"Alive. Unlike you."

Vegeta Sr whirled around to find himself looking up at a giant red face. "Excuse me?"

King Yemma sighed. "King Vegeta of the Saiyan race. Time of death: 2300 hours, day 28, month 7, year 737. Cause of death: ruptured organs and severe blood loss."

If looks could kill, Yemma would be leaving in a body bag.

"I can't be _dead, _you fool! There must be some mistake. The last thing I remember was-" Vegeta Sr stopped, eyes wide with horror.

"Was going up against the greatest terror in the universe," Yemma finished. "And you lost. So now you're dead. Anyway, turn right and keep going until you find the Snake Way. Jump off the bridge when you see puffy yellow clouds. You should meet all the other Saiyans in Hell. If you'll excuse me, I have other things to attend to-"

"What do you mean I should meet _all _the other Saiyans?" Vegeta Sr demanded. "Aside from the squad that came with me, they're all on Vegetasei!"

Yemma cleared his throat awkwardly. "Ah, about that. After you died, Frieza decided to blow up your planet. Well, it was nice meeting you. So if you would please throw yourself off the bridge-"

"_WHAT?" _Vegeta Sr roared. "The saiyans are _gone?"_

"Well, except for your son, but seeing as he's with Frieza, you'll see him here soon enough-"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Vegeta Sr shouted. "_What will happen to my son_?"

"_ENOUGH!" _Yemma roared. "Ogres, take him to HFIL."

The ogres dragged Vegeta Sr away, still screaming obscenities at the giant.

Yemma rubbed his temples. He had been dealing with these brutes all day. He needed a vacation. Perhaps his cousin from that other universe would fill in for him for a while...

His gaze fell on a particular file, darkening immediately. He snatched he papers up, flipping through them roughly. He looked up at the spot Vegeta Sr had just been. Maybe it was better that Vegeta Sr wouldn't see what his son would become after all.

* * *

**Unknown, 737 AD**

_Clinophobia __is the fear of sleeping._

The line between fantasy and reality is taut, yet fragile_._ Fantasy is merely an image produced by wild imagination, sometimes painting our heart's desire, sometimes a mere daydream, and other times it is an escape. It is, to summarize, a state where one sees what he wants to see and nothing else.

_His hands ripped into the girl's torso and emerged out her back. He saw her eyes, full of pain and hate, lock with his as she died. It was gruesome, cruel even, but it didn't matter. She was just a toy. Toys were replaceable. Unimportant._

_(Frieza had said that he was, too. But he wasn't a toy, he was a person. Father had said so. Where was father?)_

_He is five, and wonders why he sees dead faces at night._

* * *

"We will escape this forsaken place."

Vegeta Sr turned his stern glare on every member of the squad. The moment he had found his people, they had turned to him, crying out for the blood of their enemy. He had responded in kind, yelling himself hoarse as he screamed motivational words of vengeance to them. After that, he determined that neither of his children were in there, then quickly set about plotting breakout with the elite squad and the Queen.

They were currently divided into two opposing teams. He, obviously, wanted to take his people and get the HFIL out of HFIL. His wife, however, had other plans and had managed to gather a few traitors to her side.

"Maybe we should just stay here, sir," Zorn, one of the pro-Queens sighed. "Have we not had enough blood on our hands?"

"No, we have not." Bardock, one of the other group, snapped. He wasn't an elite, but Vegeta Sr had decided that he should be consulted on these matters. It had been Bardock who had first foresaw Frieza destroying Vegetasai after all, and he deserved credit. Vegeta Sr had been a bit disappointed when Bardock admitted that his vision had been caused by a bug hitting him on the head, but that was irrelevant as of now. "I want that lizard son of a bitch dead."

"So do we all." Vegeta Sr agreed. "Which is why we shall escape to the world of the living-"

"We shall do no such thing!" the Queen snapped. "It is rash and unreasonable. What is there to gain-"

"We have nothing left to lose and everything to gain."

"You're wrong. Vegeta, think about it. If you escape, you'll die again eventually and get sent to a lower level of HFIL. And for what? Revenge? Frieza will die eventually, then you can both duke it out here. But you can not spend an eternity of torment for the sake of a chance at petty vengeance?"

"He killed us all, my Queen," Vegeta Sr said hotly. "He slaughtered us like mere pigs, without even lifting a finger. We must have revenge, it was a matter of Saiyan pride-"

"Where has pride gotten you now?" the Queen exploded. "Look around you, Vegeta! Is _this _what you wanted? An eternity in this fucking hellhole?"

She stalked up to him and ripped his pendant off. She dangled it in his face.

"King," she spat on the ground. "What good is that now?"

Vegeta Sr swung a punch, but she was expecting it. She darted under his fist to knee him in the gut. Vegeta Sr blocked the blow and retaliated with a swift kick that sent her flying into a boulder. She shot out of the rubble, tackling the king.

Their fight lasted for hours and carried them to an isolated place away from the others. It was something they both needed. They let their frustration bleed out of each punch, concentrating on nothing but their opponent. Not their sons, not their worries, nothing mattered except for the fight.

The end result had the king's arm blocking his wife's throat as he pinned her down.

"Don't you get it, Vegeta?" she yelled, her eyes wet. "It's _over! _Vegetasei is gone. We have lost everything. Vengeance serves no purpose."

"If not for vengeance," he said quietly. "Then do it for your son."

King Vegeta walked away, leaving his Queen weeping on the ground.

* * *

**Unknown, 739 AD**

_Acarophobia__is the fear of mites, insects, and worms._

Fantasy is, by definition, to see what one wants to see. It is often like a drug, numbing the facts and providing an escape into a world that is our own to control. The notion of a faux reality that is centered on the object of our focus, where we are still free to control everything from pawns of the lowest rank to tyrants of the highest power, holds a nearly irresistible appeal to the dominating and selfish side of human nature.

Sometimes, drugs aren't strong enough, and the wake-up call hurts.

_It was dark and small. If he were to spread his arms, he knew that his fingers would press against the rocky surface of the pit. But his fingers didn't so much as twitch; frozen in place by the toxins now running through his veins._

_Frieza had been upset. He hadn't followed orders, because he had not listened very well. He did not think he'd be punished. Punishment was for the toys. Not the Prince of All Saiyans._

_He is seven, and the worms continue to eat his flesh. _

* * *

The Queen's refusal to help was just the start of their worries. There were some obvious setbacks, such as how to get out, and their lack of bodies.

"We could inhabit other bodies," Bardock suggested. "Other races."

"And give up our Saiyan heritage?" Fasha demanded. The others agreed and it descended into a shouting match, then an all-out brawl.

It took two years of failed attempts before they finally agreed with Bardock's plan.

* * *

**Unknown, 741 AD**

_Agliophobia __is the fear of pain_

Karma is a right bitch. She created the universal law of the things one did designed to turn around and bite one in the bum.

Sometimes enlightenment happens in the worst possible way.

_The bed was soft underneath him and damp with his tears._

_His emotions were now a jumble of pain, loss, violation and confusion. He was confused because this didn't hurt as much as the other things Frieza had done, but it felt much worse somehow. It was an awful feeling of being violated that shook him to his core and made him beg and scream to stop it-STOP IT PLEASE-!_

_He remembered seeing this on his last mission. One of his temporary squad mates had been doing it to a woman, and he had wondered why the woman was so upset. It didn't look like Cui was doing much to torture her._

_Above him, the tyrant continued his rhythm._

_He is nine, and for the first time he thinks that perhaps his toys are not like plants after all._

* * *

Four years after they died, the Queen agreed to their plan.

It was still up for debate. They had more or less an idea of how to escape the Saiyan way. Which meant that they were going to fight the ogres and Yemma head-on. It was not particularly bright idea, but the votes in its favor were unanimous.

The species they were to possess was another matter.

"Take the Lycans, they're a warrior race, but not as good as we are-"

"Are you fucking retarded? I say go with the Scorpios-"

"What did you call me, asshole?"

"_Enough," _the Queen said. The Saiyans fell silent. "We cannot inhabit a race that is well known if we want to stay off Frieza's radar for long enough to adjust to the new bodies. Even if he doesn't suspect, who's to say he won't blow up their planet too? Then we'd be dead again, and in a worse place than this for escaping in the first place."

She waited for the furious shouts and curses to die down, before continuing,

"We also cannot inhabit a race that is too strong, or they might have the mental power to resist our control." She paused briefly to acknowledge the grumbles that spread through the ranks.

"What we need," she declared. "is a planet that is isolated-well out of Frieza's reach-with weak inhabitants who have physiology that is similar enough to ours to be easy to adjust to. Does anyone have any suggestions?"

There was a lull in conversation as the Saiyans thought. Bardock slowly raised his hand.

"My son was sent to one such planet," he said. "I believe it was called Earth."

* * *

**Unknown, 742 AD**

_Autophobia __is the fear of being alone._

C.S. Lewis once said, 'If you look for truth, you may find comfort in the end; if you look for comfort you will not get either comfort or truth, only soft soap and wishful thinking to begin, and in the end, despair_'.  
_Ben Jonson once said, 'Curiosity killed the cat.'

_He wondered if his views thus far had been wrong. So when his hand crushed the alien's heart, he reached into its mind and felt it die._

_He is ten, and he realizes that people are not like saibamen._

* * *

"King Yemma, the Saiyans are attacking the west gate!"

Yemma looked up from his never ending pile of paperwork. "Can't you handle it?"

Another ogre burst into the room. "They've overwhelmed our guards. They're on their way up here as we speak!"

Baba floated over to allow him access to the crystal ball she used as a seat. Yemma observed the Saiyans for a moment. He had to admit, their skills had not been exaggerated. Still, as much as he loved a show to break up the monotony, he would be the one to clean up the mess.

"Activate the nanobots."

* * *

**Unknown, 744 AD**

_Asthenophobia__is the fear of weakness._

The law of nature is 'eat or be eaten'. It is a jungle out there; only the strong survive, while the weak perish.

Vulnerability is something that very few people want to be associated with. One feels naked and exploitable when he is vulnerable. But every man has a kryptonite. It's just a matter of who can hide theirs the best.

Like quills upon the fretful porpentine, when the soft underbelly is exposed, you put up your defenses.

_He kept killing. He knew that if he didn't, he'd be seen as a weakling and killed himself._

_Every time he murdered a worthy opponent, he reached into the opponent's mind as ze died._

_He is twelve, and something inside is breaking, but no one cares._

* * *

Another year and a half were wasted as his and his men's antibodies fought off Yemma's accursed microscopic tin cans.

Yemma had assured them that the nanobots were like viruses. Eventually their own immune systems would kick in to get rid of the intrusion. Until then, they'd be experiencing several nasty shocks.

He slammed his fist against a boulder. Seven years! They had been stuck here for _seven years._ His son had been with Frieza for that same amount of time. The bastard had had years to break Vegeta, and had probably succeeded.

When he was alive, the spies in Frieza's army lasted scarcely more than a year, at most.

King Vegeta buried his face in his hands. "Oh son," he moaned. "Forgive me."

* * *

**Unknown, 747 AD**

_Agatheophobia__ is the fear of madness._

Madness; the condition of being mad; insanity, lunacy.

Counterphobia: in which the victim seeks out the object he fears most..

_He realized that he hated killing for Frieza, so he did so more and more. He engaged in a masochistic game that he always won, but also lost every time. Frieza liked this. Liked him turning into a mirror image of the tyrant._

_He is fifteen, and insane._

* * *

**Yeah, Vegeta's psycho. Poor kid. :(**

**A/N According to my account, this story has 80 views, so I guess (hope) people like, or are at least curious about this story. I'm sorry that the previous chapter was nothing like the summary suggested, but it's a necessary evil. I promise that all will make sense in due time. **

**This is just a prequel explaining how things happened. I would like to inform you that not all the chapters will look like these. The actual story will start a couple of chapters from now. **

**Bulma and Goku will make a short appearance in the next chapter. ;)**

**r&r please! :D **


	3. Chapter 3, Dreams

**Special thanks to Pointer 39 and Vegeta Fangirl 17 for reviewing! Here's a cyber cookie for you! And a new chapter!**

* * *

**Earth, 737 AD**

Gohan cried out when the baby that had been squirming on his back fell down the cliff.

He threw his supplies to the ground and raced down to find the ill-tempered babe. He knew that grown men had died from lesser falls, but he had to check. At least give the infant a proper burial.

When he reached the bottom, he had already prepared himself for the worst, yet the sight of the infant's splayed body still made his heart clench.

Carefully, he gathered the infant in his arms, mourning.

Then its tail twitched.

Astonished, Gohan pressed his ear to its chest. There was a heartbeat! He laughed happily, feeling as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

When the infant opened his eyes, weeks later, something carnal and alien was gone from where it had burned bright before. The newly innocent stare fixed on a grinning old man.

"I think I'll name you Goku."

Next to them, a dazed spirit frowned.

* * *

On Vegetasei, the existence of ghosts had not been uncommon.

King Vegeta had first discovered this when he was eight and his long-dead grandfather bopped him on the head for spilling a glass of juice onto a painting in the throne room. He had stared as Vegeta the fifth continued to lecture him about the historical value of that painting for twenty minutes, before he finally found his voice and started screaming bloody murder. His grandfather had stared at him for all of five seconds, looking a bit confused, until his father stomped into the room to see what all the ruckus was about. After yelling at him about the painting, his father explained that ghosts were the people who had escaped from the Otherworld to find their way back so they could haunt their offspring. His grandfather had protested that it was 'unfinished business', but he had been too busy passing out to care.

Over the years, he discovered that there were plenty of ghosts on the planet, and they had the abilities to levitate items, possess people, and scare the shit out of you by appearing when you'd least expect (like on his wedding night). The ghost sightings had abruptly ended shortly before his son's birth, but he hadn't thought too much of it at the time.

After death, he found out that Yemma had created a special cage for the dead Saiyans, since they were the ones who were always escaping. This was also why he had been so ready for their escape plan. The only reason that they were not in that cage with their ancestors was because it couldn't contain the amount of people that had died with their planet. He'd been a bit disappointed to learn that he wouldn't be able to meet his own deceased father until better arrangements were made, but he concentrated on the fact that they were allowed free reign for now.

The plan they had come up with consisted of three steps; escape, haunt, inhabit.

He was sure that they could apply the same 'haunting' principle once they reached the planet Earth. The few humans he had met admitted that ghost sightings were abundant among their kind, although people rarely believed of their existence.

The inhabiting part, however, was going to be a problem. As a rule, Saiyan ghosts only possessed those who were willing, and only temporarily. Doing otherwise would not only involve the highest mental control, but also the suppression of the host's soul, which could cause irreparable damage to the host's psyche. Not only was it dishonorable and violating, it was also an ability that a select few possessed. King Vegeta was sure that he and several others were capable, but that meant that not everyone who had died could come to Earth with him and those who could would be appalled by the methods they'd need to use to survive.

King Vegeta sighed and hoped that Bardock was having better luck with the escape part.

* * *

Bardock was a scientist first and foremost. When the after-effects of the nanobots had worn off, he had immediately taken it upon himself to investigate the little creatures. Yemma had thought that they were unusable after their powers ran out, but was he ever wrong.

He fiddled with the microscope. The nanobots truly were a work of art. Their size allowed them to enter any organism uninhibited, and their programs abled them to do anything from delivering incapacitating shocks to controlling brainwaves. Yemma evidently hadn't realized this, and that worked beautifully for the Saiyans.

It was obvious now that they couldn't use raw strength to escape. The big red ogre had tricks up his sleeve that they had neither the time nor resources to investigate thoroughly. It had been ten years already, and the King was getting agitated. Bardock didn't blame him. He had seen with his own eyes what happened to the men in Frieza's ranks; he certainly wouldn't wish that fate on anyone, and to know that his son was going through that...Well, he was just surprised that the King hadn't cracked yet.

To be honest, he was worried about his own children as well. The last time he heard of his eldest, he had been on his way back from dropping off the second prince on an allied, inconspicuous planet. It was a position of honor for a third-class, but it was also their only option. At that time Frieza was closely monitoring the elites, so they'd had to use someone who'd stay under the radar. So far, he hadn't seen Radditz down here, so he assumed, or hoped really, that the boy had managed to find a safe planet to hide in after their own's destruction.

As for his second son, well. When he was alive, Bardock hadn't been joking when he told Fasha that he could care less. At the time. The baby was as much his blood as Radditz, but he had been born with an extraordinarily low power level, even for a third-class. Bardock had wanted to disown the brat when he'd heard, but had been a bit busy with Dodoria.

But after the horrific events that happened after that day he wanted nothing more than to make sure that his brat was alright. Ironically, dying made him appreciate life a lot more, and he wanted to keep his children safe, using any means to do so, however dishonorable or immoral.

_Well, _he reasoned. _I'm already in HFIL anyway._

So when Bardock discovered he possibility of mind-control using the nanobots, he didn't hesitate to test it on the nearest ex-Frieza-henchman and watched the poor asshole run around in circles, picking his nose for twenty minutes. Confirming that his work was a success, Bardock had immediately reported to the King.

He had explained his plan of using the nanobots to control the ogre guards to make them oblivious to the Saiyans' disappearance. Unfortunately, several experiments had proven that the ogres operated on a different set of brainwaves, meaning that he had to recalibrate each of the nanobots. Without an actual ogre to test it on, it was touch and go. Now after three years he believed that he had finally found the right programming and the nanobots were ready to use.

It was time to put phase one in action.

* * *

**Space, Nova Galaxy, 747 AD**

"Why can't we just blow the whole thing up again?"

Nappa punched his arm rest angrily. "Goddammit, Radditz! I've already explained it a hundred fucking times! Frieza needs the planet _intact_."

"Then why are we being sent?" Radditz's whiney voice crackled through the speakers. "We're way too awesome for a diplomatic mission."

Nappa gritted his teeth and resisted the impulse to just smash his shitty scouter. The static, coupled with Radditz's complaints, were getting on the old man's last nerve. He settled for barking at the kid. "We're here to purge the asshat planet. Now shut up and let me sleep, you little shit."

"Why?"

"Because it's a four month trip and I'm fucking tired from the last fucking mission!"

"Why?"

"Because it was a hard-ass mission."

"Wh-_buzz-_y?"

Nappa ripped the scouter off of his face and smashed it to pieces. Silence rang out in the small pod.

Nappa sighed, shutting his eyes happily.

"Hey, Nappa?"

"Sonofa-!" The older Saiyan's eyes snapped open, searching for the source of the voice. He found it in the standard speakers installed in every pod.

"Nappa?" Radditz tried again.

"What?" he rubbed his temples. He figured that 'Radditz was annoying me' wasn't a good enough excuse to wreck the pod and risk Frieza's wrath.

"Vegeta's been awfully quiet lately, hasn't he?"

Nappa froze. He looked away, although Radditz couldn't see him. "Yes," he muttered, eyes still downcast. "He has. So what? He probably doesn't want to waste his time talking to low-class scum like you."

"I don't think he doesn't want to talk to me. I think that he's just not all there, you know?"

"Radditz, shut up."

"What? I mean it. Yesterday, I was talking to him, and he totally just zoned out. Then he got all schizo and sent Cui to the regen tanks. He's completely cracked."

"Radditz, _shut up."_

"I'm just saying. Think he's alright?"

_Of course not. _"Of course he is."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"You don't sound sure."

_I was supposed to guard him. _Nappa didn't answer.

"You're avoiding him."

"Mind your own goddamn business."

Nappa roughly muted the speakers. He looked outside the window at the lone pod in front of him.

The truth was, he _had _been avoiding Vegeta, though not without reason. Vegeta was a growing teenage boy, just entering the cusp of adulthood. He needed space, and Nappa would be glad to give him that.

Or at least, that's what he told himself.

If he were to be honest, he was avoiding his prince out of guilt. The young prince had been entrusted to him since his birth. He still remembered the day they'd first met.

_He knelt before the King and Queen, nervous as heck and hardly believing the honor he was being bestowed with. His palms started to sweat and he wondered if this wasn't just an elaborate prank after all. Maybe the King would turn to him and say, "Sorry, my bad. We meant the other guy."_

_"Rise, General."_

_He stood__, keeping his eyes on the Queen's shoes. He didn't dare look higher. He felt like he should probably say something. "Uh, thank you for choosing me, your majesty, uh, majesties, it's a great honor, and I would just like to thank you, and, uh-" Where was that eloquent speech he had planned?_

_He could hear her sigh. "General Nappa, look at me."_

_His head jerked up, eyes flashing in terror and embarrassment. Did the lousy speech make them change their minds? "A thousand apologies, my Queen, I-"_

_The Queen, looking much more disheveled than he had ever seen her, laughed. "We're not going to change our minds nor did we make a mistake, General Nappa."_

_The King grunted. "We're trusting you." And he shoved a bundle of blankets into his arms. Nappa stared down at the spiked hair poking out of the blankets._

_"Sire?" he croaked._

_"General Nappa of the Saiyan army, you are hereby promoted as my son's babysitter." King Vegeta said formally. His eyes softened as he looked at the child."Take care of him, Nappa."_

_Nappa gulped. "I will, sire, I won't let you down!"_

_King Vegeta fixed him with a stern gaze. "Make sure that you don't."_

_Looking down at the scowling baby, Nappa vowed to keep his promise._

Nappa found himself breaking his word over and over again throughout the years. They had started a routine of sorts. Vegeta would always come back to their quarters bloodied and beaten, and Nappa was always there to patch him up while Radditz stood by and cussed up a storm. It tore him up inside, but it was all he could do. He knew that Vegeta wouldn't die from the beatings, (Frieza favored the prince, a man would have to be blind to miss that) but with each torture, the child he had known broke a bit more.

When Nappa looked at his prince nowadays, he couldn't recognize the person behind those dark eyes.

"Nappa?"

"Radditz, if you talk to me one more fucking time I will rip your tongue out and feed it to the dogs." he snarled.

A pause, then. "It's Vegeta."

Nappa immediately paled. "Apologies, my prince. I thought you were Radditz."

"Obviously," Vegeta sneered. "You must be getting old to confuse me with that third class shit. Anyway, have you gotten the pills I wanted? I had another dream."

Nappa frowned. Vegeta had become stranger and stranger over the years, and he often complained about dreams. Most of these involved his father and Radditz's father, Bardock. Zarbon had told him to get medication for the prince, and he finally relented after Vegeta told him about a dream where the late King ate microscopic robots.

"Yes, I have them. You don't wanna take them during the mission, though. Nasty stuff."

"Fine. Just have them ready."

Nappa opened his mouth to confirm this. Then Vegeta's pod exploded before his very eyes.

* * *

Vegeta's dreams annoyed him. Saiyans were well-known for not only their strength, but also their telepathic prowess. They had a special pace of neural oscillation that allowed them to do things like communicate telepathically, flip through memories, or even influence the acts of other beings. This also had the side affect of wilder, more vivid dreams.

Vegeta knew this for a fact, but the amount of dreams he was getting was just ridiculous. He couldn't remember exactly when it had started, but he knew that they came and went.

It used to be simple dreams. Old memories of his father yelling at the lieutenants, of Bardock experimenting with everything he touched. But then it got weird. Vegeta Sr kept talking about escaping from some place, while he argued with the Queen. Their plans continuously failed, but they kept trying. His parents had never argued in front of him, so he knew that it wasn't a long-forgotten memory. What was weird was just how _real _the dreams seemed, almost as if they were actually happening.

They were so real, in fact, that it got to the point where he investigated this planet Earth they kept talking about. Planet Earth turned out to be an actual planet, and Radditz's brother _was _sent there, although he had most likely died by now as the planet was still teeming with life. Vegeta had tried to establish a mental link with the planet, and he had been pleased when one particular mind bonded perfectly with his.

_"We leave at dawn."_

_He saw his father standing before a squad of Saiyans. Zorn and Bardock were standing at his side, expressions grim. His mother stood a little ways behind them, watching the group like a hawk._

_"Attack every ogre you can find with these," his father motioned to a canister Bardock held. The metallic creatures inside chittered noisily. "And tell them to distract Yemma. Once the nanobots are inside, they'll do anything you tell them. The other Saiyans will provide additional cover for us. When we're on Earth, you will immediately find the strongest host you can get. Are we clear?"_

_"Yessir!" The Saiyans chorused enthusiastically._

_The dream shifted, and he was bent over a device the shape and size of a water canister._

_"Stupid radar," he muttered. "All I wanted was a life-time supply of strawberries, but noo. You just had to malfunction after finding me only one ball."_

_"Well you know what, you stupid machine?"He straightened, putting his hands on his hips. "I am Bulma Briefs, gorgeous genius and billionaire! I will get what I want, and no malfunctioning dragon radar is going to stop me!"_

_His mother peeked through the doorway. "Isn't it time to take a break, dear? I made strawberry muffins, your favorite!"_

_"Coming, mom!"_

"Gah!" Vegeta awoke with a jerk. He sat stunned for a few moments, then a scowl appeared on his face. He had been that _woman _again. He had started dreaming about her after he made the connection with Earth. He could only assume that she was the person he'd formed a linked with, but fuck if she wasn't the most annoying creature he'd ever known. The woman was spoiled, selfish, egotistical and vain.

Not realizing that these were the exact same traits he possessed, he leaned over and turned on his mic. "Nappa?"

"Radditz, if you talk to me one more fucking time I will rip your tongue out and feed it to the dogs."

Vegeta arched an eyebrow. "It's Vegeta."

He could practically hear the blood draining from his bodyguard's face. "Apologies, my prince. I thought you were Radditz."

"Obviously," he grumbled. "You must be getting old to confuse me with that third class shit. Anyway, have you gotten the pills I wanted? I had another dream."

Nappa had recommended the drugs after Vegeta had told him about a dream where his father swallowed the nanobots. He may have exaggerated the story a little when he described them as 'brainsucking worms from the pits of Dora'. The woman had been watching reruns of Dora after she'd lost a bet with one of her friends, then she'd proceeded to play three hours of Plants vs Zombies to purge her mind from that 'neuron-killing bob-haired freak'. Vegeta had never told Nappa about the woman because the bodyguard seemed disturbed enough with his habits already. No need to give the man an aneurysm.

"Yes, I have them. You don't wanna take them during the mission, though. Nasty stuff."

"Fine. Just have them ready."

He turned off the mic just as a blinking red light caught his eye.

"Son of a bitch."

Then his world was engulfed in flames as his pod exploded.

* * *

**Earth, 749 AD  
**

_She__ is three, and walking down the steps of the palace. Father had promised to teach her to spar today_. She was determined to prove herself, excited that the man was paying her any attention at all.  


_She is four, and father was saying something about the tyrant Frieza. She frowned. She did not like the sound of this Frieza._

_She is five, and wonders why she sees dead faces at night._

_She is seven, and the worms continue to eat her flesh._

_S__he is nine, and for the first time she thinks that perhaps—_

_She is ten, and she realizes—_

_She is twelve, and something is breaking—_

_She is fifteen, and—_

_The pod explodes._

Bulma gasped. She sat up, twisting the sheets in her hands in distress.

"Bulma, dear, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, mom," she croaked. "I just had a bad dream, that's all."

"Alright, honey. Call me if you need me."

Bulma listened to the sound of her mother's footsteps as they faded away. The dreams had started a couple years ago. She was always the same person. A boy, with dark hair and dark eyes and a tail.

Prince Vegeta.

His life had started out nice, Bulma had enjoyed those dreams. She was, after all, a pampered prince in them. Vegeta hadn't had much of his father's attention, but it was clear that the man had loved his son, no matter how busy he was. Vegeta had had anything he could have wanted, and Bulma was happy in those dreams.

Then Vegeta turned five and the dreams turned to nightmares. He was taken in by a man named Frieza when his planet, his family, everything he cared about was destroyed. For ten years he was raped, beaten and tortured in ways that kept Bulma up at night, hunched over the toilet as she emptied her stomach's contents into the porcelain bowl.

Even though they were just dreams, Bulma was sure that Vegeta was real. She didn't know why she thought that, but she knew it was true. Vegeta was real, and if the people in her dreams were any indication, he was an alien, living in space.

Bulma almost laughed. She was the smartest person in the world and she believed the existence of aliens because of dreams.

A candle flickered and she frowned. No matter how her dreams started out, they always ended the same way. With an explosion as shrapnel pierced Vegeta's skin. The dreams ended when Vegeta was fifteen, when his space pod blew up with him in it.

But he wasn't dead, Bulma could feel it inside her. She would know if he was dead.

She walked out the balcony and looked up to the stars.

"Where are you, Vegeta?"

* * *

**Hell's Gates, 747 AD**

The plan was ready.

Ogres were down left and right. They were at HFIL's gates, ready to escape to the world of the living. Only about a tenth of the race had the abilities needed to come. The rest were happy to cause chaos in the form of random destruction, assured that their deaths would be avenged by their peers. Vegeta Sr could see more ogres entering, and he bared his teeth in a feral grin, readying himself for a fight.

Beside him, Zorn narrowed his eyes. Something was off. There weren't enough ogres for it to be a second wave of offense. It was more like an escort... Zorn paled. _It can't be._

The ogres stared at their incapacitated comrades, backing up the stairs. A small blur shoved his way between them, staring wide-eyed at the gathered group of Saiyans.

"Father?" Prince Vegeta gasped, a halo shining brightly over his head.

* * *

**R&R!**


	4. Chapter 4, Earth

**Special thanks to Pointer39, VegetaFangirl17, and Smalsa for your lovely reviews! :D Keep it coming, guys!**

**To Smalsa: Yes, I was just quoting CS Lewis. Only the scenes in itallic were from Vegeta's POV. I'm sorry if that wasn't clear. ;)**

**Alright, so this chapter is a bit rushed. I won't be able to update for a couple of weeks because the finals are starting tomorrow, so I updated today.  
**

**Enjoy!**

**A lot of people seemed to be confused with this chapter, so it has now been split into two parts.**

**Warnings: Graphic torture and crazy!Vegeta.**

**A/N Mrs Hog is a real character. She was part of Oolong's harem. Hou Zi means monkey in mandarin. :P  
**

* * *

**Earth, 747 AD**

He sat bolt upright, heart pounding. The sheets he was entangled in tore as he struggled out of them, racing to what he assumed was the bathroom.

King Vegeta looked at the mirror and saw a human face staring back at him.

He laughed. The plan had succeeded! They were free to train to beat the lizard bastard who killed them and save his son!

His son... Vegeta Sr frowned. In those last moments in HFIL, he could have sworn that he heard his son's voice. He quickly dismissed it as a hallucination. The euphoria of the moment must have pushed him over the edge.

Vegeta Sr squinted at his reflection, tilting his head. It was a bit like having a double vision. His own face overlapped with an elderly human's. He could see parts of his armor underlying the suit the human wore. Vegeta Sr drummed his fingers on the counter. Obviously, the possession had been a success. This after-image was probably visible to only the other escapees, and not unsuspecting humans or Yemma's men.

Having solved the problem of discretion, he peered back at the old human face. He'd have to say it was around two hundred if he'd been a Saiyan. His hair was graying and his face wrinkled, although his body was still fit enough, for a human.

He scrunched up his now-human nose. That wouldn't do. With a body this old and frail, a thousand years of training wouldn't be enough to defeat Frieza.

He shut his eyes, concentrating on the strands of DNA that formed the human's chemical make-up. He yanked on the strands, twisting and shaping them to better match his.

When he opened his eyes, the face staring back at him was different. It had brown hair, dark eyes, and enough muscle to put a world class body builder to shame.

"It doesn't look exactly like my old body," he mused, blowing limp strands of human hair out of his face. "But it'll do."

"Indeed," said a cold voice behind him. Vegeta Sr whirled around to find himself looking at a small blond-haired, blue-eyed child, leaning against the doorway."Now if you're done playing around, I suggest we find the others."

"Who are you?" He demanded. "How did you get in here?"

The child smirked mockingly, while his features shifted. The face morphed from its innocent, wide-eyed form, into something darker, more sinister. Blonde hair turned to black as a Saiyan face overlapped its human host's. Vegeta Sr stumbled backwards. _That's...impossible!_

Dark eyes met his own from behind blue irises.

"It's been a while, Father."

* * *

_One year later_

* * *

**Hou Zi City, Earth, 748 AD  
**

Contrary to popular belief, stormy nights do not mark the beginning of unpleasant happenings. The skies do not change their mood to suit the happenings of humans who move around doing menial daily tasks. If anything those mortals are the ones who search for signs in the sky and arrange their deeds accordingly for the purpose of creating suspense.

But our young culprit was rather inept at predicting meteorological conditions, so it was a perfectly sunny day when the townspeople found the first body.

The monkey bars of the town's single playground were in bad shape—bent and twisted at odd angles—completely in contrast to the figure lying vertically across it, which would appear serene and peaceful were it not such a horrible sight.

His hands were clasped to his chest and his posture was straight, providing an eerie likeness to vampires in old wives' tales, yet he was unlike any bloodsucker, for they do not have faces in the backs of their heads, nor are their chests flayed open crudely as though a vivisection had gone wrong, nor do their bones protrude from their well-tailored suits at unnatural angles.

It was a gruesome sight, made even more unpleasant by the irony of the shining sun and the childish contraption and the fact that someone had tried to present an image of peaceful death by forcefully entangling him in the bars in a decent position.

Mrs. Hog was the first to find him. She was an unpleasantly waspish old lady who had more cats than she had children. An ex-star, she was rather obsessed with preserving her figure (no one actually had the heart to tell her it had bloated beyond repair long ago) and went on early morning walks each day. Her route was quite simple; a walk around town and occasionally through the coffee shop (if she felt particularly tired). Unfortunately, the playground was near the end of her route and the old woman was rather out of breath when she found the body.

The poor woman almost had a heart attack then and there. Her voice wasn't what it had used to be; therefore her shrill scream came out as a raspy gasp.

Realizing that no one had heard her, Mrs. Hog hurriedly went back down her route and burst through the sheriff's station in a flustered state.

The men looked up from their morning coffee, nearly choking on them when they saw the perfectionist old widow hyperventilating at the doorway with her hair in disarray and her cosmetics blotchy.

"Why, Mrs. Hog! Are you quite alright?" was the general reaction as they floundered about to find beverages or chairs or perhaps a paper bag.

She held up her hand to stop their fussing and placed the other on her bosom as she tried to regain her breath.

"Mr. Blue—dead—in the playground—monkey bars!" She finally managed.

There was a moment of silence as the officers glanced uncertainly at each other. Mrs. Hog was a sensible woman, and not one to tell lies either, but the thought of the gung-ho General Blue stepping foot in a child's park was more outlandish than an old lady going senile.

"Are you saying that Mr. Blue was playing in the monkey bars and died?" One man asked uncertainly.

The old woman glared at them, starting to regain her old waspishness. "_No, _you blithering morons. I'm saying he's _dead _and entangled in the monkey bars! Oh, just come with me!"

She led them to the park, huffing and puffing, gesturing grandly at the grisly scene.

Then they froze. Their muscles locked together and their eyes glued themselves to the body, unable to tear away. It was as though a terrible spell of fear and disgust had descended upon them, freeing their actions completely.

"Crap," an officer swore, and as though that had broken the trance, everyone ran to the nearest bush to lose their lunches.

* * *

**Capsule Corporation, 748 AD**

The news spread quickly.

By noon everyone in town knew about Mr. Blue's untimely death and by evening the town was a cacophony of noises, accusing one another in the childish war of _It wasn't me, he did it, not me, not me!, _and by night, everyone _out _of town knew, including Dr Briefs.

"Oh, how terrible," Bunny gasped as he told her.

Dr Briefs nodded sadly. Blue hadn't been well-liked by any means. He was a cruel landlord and an awful general, and there were rumors about his sexual preferences that made even the wildest men blush. But death was always an awful thing to hear about, and the way he had been killed... Well, Dr Briefs would not wish that fate on anyone.

"Do you think Bulma's okay, dear? She has been gone for a terribly long time, looking for those Dragon Balls of hers."

Dr Briefs nodded absently. "I'm sure she's fine."

* * *

**Hou Zi City, 748 AD**

The Princes had moved into town last fall.

They had appeared one day, out of nowhere it had seemed. One moment, the old manor was empty and haunted, and the next there were movers hauling in furniture and a family of three. They quickly cemented their positions in the higher circles of society as the richest people in town.

They were not at all unpleasant (on the contrary, they were almost regal with their manners) but something about them made people want to grit their teeth and edge away.

It was an almost primal instinct. Yet the hypocrisy of people in believing they had become civilized (yet if they truly _were _civilized, crime wouldn't exist in such great numbers) prevented them from taking any action.

Vincent Prince was a tall man with handsome features and brown hair. He was often described as uptight, but could laugh and joke on occasion, although the jokes were often viciously barbaric. He was in his late forties or early fifties, but as witty and spry as a man half his age. If anything could mar his perfect image, it was perhaps his wife, with whom he had a considerable age difference.

Rose Prince was easily a decade younger than her husband. She was built like a porcelain doll; all smooth skin and big eyes and cherry lips and pretty dresses. Mrs. Prince was a social butterfly, always seen chatting with the neighbors or organizing a grand party. Her personality was tolerant, allowing some of the more outspoken people to pass comments about her family with a smile and an explanation that basically consisted of "_I love my husband, no matter how much older he looks- -is than me," _with an undertone of "_I didn't marry him for money, kindly stop insinuating that I did."_

The littlest Prince was less perfect than his parents—perhaps because he hadn't yet the time to hone his 'perfection skills of a Prince,' as the townspeople had dubbed their mannerisms. He was a carbon copy of his father, albeit with his mother's coloring. His wide eyes were sharp, but wild, almost feral, scaring the shit out of anyone who looked for too long. His stature was small even for a six-just-gone-seven-year-old, only reaching up to his father's knees. The boy was plump and fairly adorable from a distance, but up close his rosy cheeks looked feverish and his well-spoken mannerisms too stiff, and—when unhappy—his insults were too blunt. Vincent Prince Jr was a loner, refusing to play with the other children, preferring the company of tactical exercise, odd, gory books, and harsh physical training._  
_

People shied away from him, as it was plainly visible that the boy wasn't quite normal, therefore they could shed their skin of faux civility—in which their animal instincts were gone, and their crimes nonexistent—to actively avoid him.

While Vincent Jr was visibly odd, an observant outsider would see that there was something unnatural about the whole family. Mr. Prince's smile was just a little too wide, a little too fake, and his uptightness wasn't quite _strict _as it was _paranoid._ Mrs. Prince smiled and laughed, but mirth never quite reached her eyes, and when she was questioned about her past or family, her expression was a bit too strained, like a rubber band stretched tight that would snap at any moment.

These weren't the sort of things normal people would notice—as no one wanted to be more observant around the Princes than was strictly necessary—more like it sank in subconsciously, stamping a mental label of '_Not quite right'_ that was buried so far in the back of the mind that it registered only as a basic instinct in the form of a niggling, itching sensation that was abandoned in the face of politeness.

So the townspeople walked on eggshells around the three Princes, all the while hoping to gain their favor.

It was on little Vincent's birthday that General Blue appeared at the front door. Blue was among the people who were more enthusiastic in gaining favor of the Princes (and perhaps catching the eye of Vincent Sr. The general always did have odd tastes.), and taking Vincent to a movie while his parents prepared his surprise party seemed like a splendid idea. (The man prided himself on coming up with it, while in reality no one else was foolish enough to annoy the antisocial runt.)

Vincent had initially refused, saying bluntly that he preferred solitude to Blue's company. Mrs. Prince had chided him, and told him to go with Blue.

(_"What manner of punishment is this?" Vincent protested. "I have done nothing to warrant the frightful company of such a man.")_

Mrs. Prince had shushed him, apologizing profusely to the landlord. He replied good-naturedly that children were often prone to bluntness, while he simmered with rage inside.

General Blue had planned to parade Vincent around town and make snide remarks of how the wealthiest family in town trusted him with their precious son. Instead he had dashed to the theatre at top speed, running from the sniggers that the boy's sharp tongue had triggered.

_( "Come with a man like that willingly? I would never—I was most obviously kidnapped!" Vincent fanned his face dramatically, pretending to swoon. General Blue turned red and dragged him away, trying to ignore the snickers sent his way..)_

_("Oh, help me, Mrs. Hog! I'm being held against my will by a man who most likely hasn't showered in three days, I shall smell like a skunk before the hour is up!"_

_Mrs. Hog shot him a disapproving look. He colored and stammered a feeble denial, before he abandoned it and just turned on his heel and left.)_

By the time they arrived at the theater, General Blue was red in the face. He shoved his money at the clerk, snatching the tickets roughly, not bothering to check what title was written on them.

He settled next to the boy, in a foul mood. The show started, he glared at the screen, promptly choking on his popcorn when he saw the title.

"Hey kid," he started. "I think we're in the wrong room."

"Hm?" the little brat hummed in that creepy not-quite-sane voice of his. "Oh, no. This is the right one."

"But..." General Blue glanced at the screen again. "This is Hansel and Gretel: witch hunter."

"I know."

Blue raised an eyebrow. Then he shrugged, figuring that if the kid wanted to experience major trauma before he was out of diapers, it wasn't his problem.

Blue's eyes quickly glued themselves to the screen. His face grew paler as blood and gore danced across his gaze, splattering organs and bone everywhere, making his stomach lurch. When the witch grasped a man's head to hold him still while worms crawled under his skin, Blue opened his mouth to tell Vincent that they should probably leave. Shit this bad would mess with the kid's head permanently.

He jumped when loud, high-pitched laughter echoed next to him. He turned to stare at the kid, recoiling suddenly. Vincent's gaze was locked firmly on the movie, dancing with mocking glee, and a hint of insanity. The kid didn't seem scared in the least, and when the man on screen exploded, he let out another peal of giggles.

"Kid?" Blue asked hesitantly. "You know, this isn't a movie for kids like you. We should go."

"I'm fine." Vincent said dismissively. "You humans really don't know anything, do you?"

"What?" Warning bells rang loudly in Blue's head. The way Vincent had said _human _had a certain lilt to it that suggested...that suggested that he wasn't one himself.

"It doesn't look like that," the child continued in a low, excited whisper, amusement tinging his voice. "You don't just go _boom. _First, the worms eat their way inside of you, digesting your flesh as their saliva rots everything it touches. Then it eats your meat first, ignoring the major organs, so as not to kill immediately, but cause severe pain. They will breed when they are satiated. Eggs will be planted into every empty crevice, every nook and cranny of your body. The eggs pulsate under your skin, while their mothers start to feast on your blood. The pulsing will grow so intense that the victim starts to cry tears of red, red blood," Vincent licked his lips, then continued, talking faster, more excitedly. "The larvae will churn within their shells, misplacing _things _inside you until you can't help but _scream. _Then, they will hatch."

Blue gulped, eyes wide in horror but fixed with a sort of morbid curiosity that sickened him. "And then?"

Vincent looked at him, grinning widely. "And then? Why after all that, Mr Blue, you have no hope of surviving."

The child smiled enigmatically at his look of horror. He turned back to the screen and tried to will the image of dark, mad eyes away.

* * *

Blood splashed the walls and splattered the dim light bulb, creating elongated spots that danced across the room.

The man strapped to the table breathed raggedly, struggling against his bonds. There were people on either side of him. He had heard their screams, but they had quieted so he suspected they were already dead. Victims to a madman. It seemed like weeks had passed since the first scream had been uttered, yet their torturer—his, now that the others were dead—showed no signs of stopping.

He was strapped to a table, or at least a solid surface. His sight was poor in the dingy room, but that may have been for the best, as he had no desire to see those next to him, nor did he wish to see what was left of his own body.

He struggled for what felt like hours. Each movement brought fresh pain that tore through his body, his mutilated chest, and the blood—oh, the blood!

_Drip._

_Drip._

_Drip._

_Splatter._

_Drip_.

He heard the door open, soft footsteps padding against the floor. He struggled even more furiously, ignoring the pain to the best of his abilities.

Then the figure was next to him, and there was a sharp clink! of a scalpel falling onto a metal tray.

"Are you awake, Mr. Blue?"

Blue shuddered at the voice. It was open and curious and full of sick, twisted childish curiosity that was unfitting for a monster.

The voice was quiet for a moment, then it came back with a tone of excitement, the way one would sound in the light of a grand epiphany. If only it wasn't so deranged.

"Are you worried? Don't be, Mr. Blue! You're merely here to help me learn. Did you know that human beings have over three hundred bones in their bodies? And that the small intestine is nearly forty feet long? It's all so terribly interesting! Humans are so weak, but their physiology are so similar to ours that it might even be possible to cross-breed." The voice broke off in a slightly unbalanced giggle, before continuing with renowned vigor. "All the impossibilities that is the human body, oh, and its limitations as well. It's so complicated, and I don't quite understand it all, sir, oh but I will understand! I simply have to see it myself, test it out if you will, and you'll help me, Mr. Blue."

Then something metal clamped around his head, and he thrashed around in panic.

"Normally, I would never bother with a weak species such as humans. But now that I'm living in one of you, I want to know how far I can push this body of mine. Mr. Blue, open your eyes."

He screwed his eyes shut, simply out of defiance, still thrashing.

A petulant sigh. "Mr. Blue, honestly. I need you to be cooperative! We're moving onto animal habits!"

Silence.

"I suppose you won't be needing those eyeballs if you won't put them to good use. I'm sure I have a blind cat to transplant them into."

Blue's eyes flew open. The last thing he saw was Vincent Prince Jr; chubby cheeks streaked with blood and the scalpel in his hand flecked with bits of flesh. Then the terrified scream bubbling in him was cut short as the metal thing on his head pulled and twisted.

There was a sickening snap and Blue's chin was tucked into his spine. His eyes were open wide, face frozen in a terrified scream.

Pause.

Vincent clucked his tongue. "I see that it was impossible for a human neck to twist as much as this species you call owl, after all. Shame."

* * *

"Don't you think that was a bit overkill?"

Vegeta took the towel offered to him, wiping his face. "How was I to know that humans were that fragile?"

"A _Saiyan _wouldn't be able to survive a broken neck."

"I figured that if they were such a weak species, they'd have to have some sort of physical abnormality to have survived this long."

"No, they do it by being extremely isolated," his companion corrected, rubbing the back of his head. "You really did a number on this one, Geta."

Vegeta flicked piece of flesh from the knife he was holding. "If you think that was bad, you should see what Frieza does."

"I don't think I'd want to. He sounds awful."

"Hn. Then don't judge _my _methods."

"Still," he drawled. "Was the crazy act really necessary? _I _was shitting in my pants."

Vegeta snickered. "Then yes, it was absolutely necessary."

There was a short sulky pause, then the other Saiyan spoke, "What was it like on Vegetasei?"

Vegeta's brow furrowed. The other always seemed to pick the most random topics. He was probably ADHD or something. "What, the torture methods?"

"No, the food."

Vegeta threw his towel at his companion, watching it pass through his smirking face. "Do you ever think of anything but your stomach?"

"Why should I?" he said innocently.

"Maybe if you put whatever is left your brain to use, you'd find your body faster."

"That's mean, Geta."

"I don't care, clown."

The other pouted for a moment. Then he stiffened.

Vegeta was instantly on his feet, ready to defend himself if need be. "What is it?"

"There are ogres in the area. I think they're scouting for Saiyans."

"Of course they're scouting for Saiyans. What else could they be looking for?" Vegeta barked. "Take care of it." he ordered.

"Yes, your majesty."

Vegeta glanced at the spot next to him, confirming the fact that Kakkarot was already gone.

* * *

**Mount Paozu, 748 AD  
**

Bulma shrieked as her car collided with the little boy."Oh my gosh! Are you alright?"

She raced over to the dazed boy. The kid jumped up, brandishing the pole he was holding threateningly. "Stay back, fairy!"

She blinked. "I'm not a fairy. I'm a girl."

"A girl?" the boy circled her curiously. "I've never met another human before. Where's your tail?"

"My what?" It was then that Bulma noticed the long monkey tail swinging behind the boy.

_Prince Vegeta. A boy with dark hair, darker eyes, and a tail._

"Hey, are you alright? Hello? Miss Giirrl? Are you okay?"

Bulma shook her head. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I was asking 'why do you have two grandpas?'" The boy said, holding out the dragon balls she had found.

"Wha-hey! Give those back!" She grabbed them away from him and stuffed them back into her bag. "And what do you mean 'two grandpas'?"

The boy scratched the back of his head. "Grandpa gave me a grandpa ball when he died, so I call it Grandpa!"

"You have a dragon ball?" Bulma demanded. "Show me!"

"Okaay.."

* * *

"Grandpa, look! It's a girl! A girl came to our house!"

Bulma laughed. The kid really was cute.

"Here you go." He held up the orange ball.

"The four-star dragon ball," Bulma exclaimed, making a grab for it. "Give it!"

The boy held it out of her reach. "No! This is grandpa's memento! Don't touch it!"

Bulma dropped her arms. "Alright, alright. Sit here. I'll tell you a story." Kids liked stories, didn't they?

"Yay!"

"So these are called dragon balls," she explained, pulling out the two she had. "According to the legend, there are seven dragon balls. Whoever collects all seven gets one wish granted. They say that the last person who used them became king. But after they're used, the dragon balls scatter all over the world again."

The boy scratched his head. "I don't get it. Why would anyone go to so much trouble for a wish that's probably not even real?"

Bulma saw Vegeta's face flicker through her mind. "Because sometimes, hope is all one has," she said quietly.

"Say, what's your name anyway?" Bulma extended her hand. "Mine's Bulma."

"I'm Son Goku." Goku grinned goofily, shaking her hand with much more strength than a kid his age had any right to have. "What do you want to wish for, Bulma?"

Bulma hesitated and eyed his tail. "Do you know someone named Vegeta?"

Goku's face scrunched up in concentration as he ran the name through his memory. It seemed familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it."No."

"Well, Goku." Bulma held the dragon balls tightly. "I'm going to use these to find him." she grinned at him. "Would you like to come?"

"Yes!"

* * *

**Yeah. Bulma wants to find her Veggie-kun! He's closer than you think, B! **

**That's it for this chapter!  
**

**So, just to be clear, yes, Goku and Kakkarot are existing at the same time. All will be revealed soon. ;)**

**Btw, I haven't read or watched Dragon Ball (What would be the point without Vegeta?), and only know the gist of it. Can anyone tell me if General Blue is important?**

**R&R!**

**P.S. Come on, guys! I know you can do better! There are nearly 500 views for his story. Surely you 500 people can drop in a few reviews? I'm holding the next chapter hostage until I get at least 8 reviews! I know you can do it! :D  
**

**This chapter has been split into two parts.**


	5. Chapter 5, Nightmares

**10 reviews already? That was fast. XD. Thank you all for your lovely reviews! **

**I noticed that a lot of you were confused with the format. I apologize; this is my first real fanfiction. I'll try to make it less confusing by alternating different scenes between ****_chapters _****now.**

**This chapter is shorter than the others, sorry. I'm a bit busy with the finals. I promise that I will make longer ones later on.**

* * *

** Capsule House, 748 AD**

_Stop it, stop it, STOP IT PLEASE—!_

_Somewhere in her muddled mind, she acknowledged that the words that had been repeating in her mind were now coming out of her mouth in shrill, agonized volumes._

_She felt rough hands grab her neck to slam her face on the floor, cutting off her pained screams. There was blood trickling from her nose, but she ignored it as she struggled and writhed against the tyrant._

_"Now, now, my pet. What happened to 'a prince doesn't beg'? You never could live up to any of your silly ideals."_

_Hatred bubbled up in her chest like magma, spilling to the surface. She wrested an arm free of his grip and twisted her upper body so she could slam her fist on his face. Faster than she could see, the tyrant had her wrist in his grip._

_ He smirked and she felt him slide out of her. She scrambled onto her back, pushing herself onto her elbows, before she was forcefully yanked up. Red eyes filled her vision, then a vicious punch dropped her to her knees._

_The lizard yanked her hair back, twisting her face up to meet his. "Why don't we put that noisy mouth of yours to use, pet?"_

_She looked up at him, seeing herself reflected in his red irises. Small features were smeared with blood, dark eyes bright with manic hatred. Then she wasn't looking at his face at all and she was choking, feeling the invasive organ slam against the back of her throat, over and over._

_When it was done she was vomiting cum and bile on the floor, tears streaming down her face in ugly streaks. He leaned down and whispered mockingly. "My little bitch. What would your father think of you now, Vegeta?"_

"-ma! Bulma!"

Bulma woke up in cold sweat. Goku sat on her midriff, peering at her worriedly. "Bulma, are you okay?"

"Get off of me!" She pushed him off with more force than was necessary, sending Goku tumbling to the floor. He bounced back up instantly, bounding after her as she slid off the bed and walked to the Capsule Home's kitchen.

Bulma yanked open the fridge door, growling in frustration when she saw the healthy foods stored up inside. "Goku, be a dear and check if we have any alcohol, will you?"

"What's alcohol?" Goku asked cluelessly.

"Never mind," the heiress grabbed the nearest bottled object in her reach, which turned out to be water.

Goku watched her concernedly as she guzzled it down. "Bulma, are you okay? You were crying in your sleep."

"Was I?" she wiped a hand across her face and frowned at the mascara streaks. "It was just a bad dream. Are you okay yourself? You don't look so good over there, champ."

Bulma hadn't noticed it before, but Goku looked paler than he had that morning. His rosy cheeks were now a sickly green and there were dark bags under his eyes.

The boy sniffled, rubbing his finger furiously under his nose. "I had a bad dream too."

The heiress's eyes softened. She slid down to the floor and patted the spot next to her. "Why don't you tell me about it?"

Goku scrambled over, curling up against her side. "At first, it was a good dream. I was at home, and my Grandpa Gohan was making dinner. Grandpa makes the best fish."

Bulma noticed his use of present tense, but didn't comment on it.

"Grandpa locked the windows and the doors," Goku continued, a nostalgic look on his face. "He told me, 'Don't go out tonight. There is a beast that only appears during the full moon.' Grandpa always says that every month."

Vegeta's memories of the Oozaru transformation flashed across Bulma's mind. Dread started to fill her stomach.

"But I didn't listen," Goku said. "I wanted to fight the monster that Grandpa Gohan kept talking about. It couldn't be worse than a dinosaur, right? And I wanted to stop Grandpa from being so scared. So I went out. I looked at the full moon. Have you ever seen a full moon, Bulma? It's so pretty, all round and bright."

Goku was talking faster now, like he wanted to get it all off his chest before he lost his nerve. "Then the monster came. I didn't see it at first, because it grew from the ground. It felt like I was sitting on the top of its head. I thought I was, because I could only see its arms and legs and chest. It was huge, Bulma! Bigger than the biggest dinosaur! I was scared and excited. It was weird, because I was so _scared _but I _liked it. _I liked the monster."

He took a deep breath. "Then Grandpa Gohan came out."

Bulma felt her heart freeze. She knew where this was going, and she shook her head slowly. "Goku..."

"Grandpa Gohan came out of the house, holding the power pole," Goku continued, like he hadn't heard her. "He was yelling at the monster, but the monster didn't understand. It sounded like 'loo moo, loo moo.'"

_Don't look at the moon,_ Bulma thought.

"He was ready to fight. He knew he couldn't win, but he didn't care. He just wanted to stop the monster-to stop the monster from hurting _himself. _He wasn't scared of the monster-he was scared _for him_. Grandpa Gohan attacked the monster, trying to get its tail. But he was so tiny. Grandpa Gohan was too tiny." Goku's voice broke into a hitched sob.

"Grandpa was tiny," he repeated in a whisper. "The monster barely felt his attacks. Then he fired a ball of light. It was so bright, like the moon, and it hurt the monster. He-the monster-got mad. He grabbed Grandpa Gohan and threw him onto the ground. I could hear his bones breaking. I wanted it to stop, but I couldn't talk and the monster couldn't hear me. The monster kept stepping on Grandpa, over and over and over."

"Oh, Goku," Bulma wrapped her arms around him sadly.

"Then Grandpa died. The monster went away, but I went with him. He was hungry, so I told him to go to the lake and catch fish. While the monster was sitting, I looked at the water from on top of his head. But there was nothing on top of its head."

"There was only the monster," Goku said, his voice rising. "There was only the monster in the water. The monster was me. I wasn't there. I was the monster! _I was the monster that killed my Grandpa!"_

Goku was shouting now, hysterical tears streaming down his face. He thrashed in Bulma's grip, howling in raw pain. Bulma hissed as she lost her grip. "Goku! Goku, stop!"

"I killed grandpa! _I was the monster!"_

"Goku!" Bulma grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look at her. Goku stopped struggling and met her blue eyes, tears streaming down his face. "Listen to me. You're not a monster. Hey, no, _listen to me._" Bulma ordered as he started shaking his head. "It was a monster that killed your grandpa that night, but that wasn't you. You're not a monster, got it? It was just a bad dream, okay?" She shook him when he stayed silent.

"Okay," Goku sniffled.

"Good. Now say it with me. 'Son Goku is not a monster.'"

"Son Goku is not a monster," Goku repeated.

"'I am not a monster'."

"I am not a monster."

" 'I am going to make Bulma breakfast.' "

"I am going to make Bulma breakfast. Hey!" Goku exclaimed indignantly, but he was laughing. Bulma giggled.

"Now," Bulma said quietly, serious again. " 'I did not kill Grandpa Gohan.' "

Goku looked away. Bulma grabbed his shoulder. "Goku, say it. 'Son Goku did not kill Grandpa Gohan'. "

"I didn't," Goku shuddered. "I didn't kill grandpa," he finished.

"Good. Tomorrow we're going to go on an adventure." Bulma smiled. "Okay?"

"Okay" Goku promised. "Thanks, Bulma."

"No problem, kiddo." Bulma wrapped her arms around him. "Good night, Goku."

"G'night, Bulma."

* * *

**Just a filler, lol. :) R&R  
**

**Those poor saiyans. :'(  
**

**Reviewers get Grandpa Gohan's Fish Special!  
**

**13 reviews buys you the next chapter. :D 750 of you people have viewed this story, let's go for 13 reviews people!  
**


	6. The Dragon Ball Hunt

**Really guys? 760 views and no reviews? :(... Here's the next chapter! Enjoy!  
**

* * *

**748 AD**

* * *

**Kame Island**

"Thanks for the cloud, Master Roshi!" Goku waved, flying off on the yellow Nimbus.

"And the dragon ball, you old perv." Bulma yelled, racing off on her motorbike.

Muten Roshi chuckled. _To be young again, _he thought wistfully_._ He jumped onto Turtle's back with far more agility than a man his age ought to have, and leaned down to pat the reptile's neck. "Let's go home, Turtle."

He hopped off the turtle once they had reached their island, humming merrily. He paused in front of the door, eyes narrowing. There seemed to be two people inside, each stronger than an average person. He slid the door open slowly. "Who's there?"

The two people inside tensed. Roshi felt their kis spike, before he was met with a gun to the face. The old man stared back, unfazed. "What do you want?"

"Where is the dragon ball, old man?" the woman snarled.

"Who wants to know?" Roshi wondered. The dragonballs were not exactly common knowledge.

"That's none of your business."

Roshi shrugged. "Well, tell your master, whoever it is, that he was too late. I already gave the dragon ball away...to the curviest young girl..." he chuckled pervertedly.

"He's useless. Come on, Shu." Mai stepped back in disgust. "Let's go."

* * *

**Unknown,** **Remote village**

"Got you, you stupid pig!" Bulma tripped Oolong as he ran. He flailed for a minute before Goku's hand wrapped around his ear.

"You're never getting anything out of me!" the pig squealed.

"Like you know anything useful," Bulma scoffed. "Anyway, my deal is this. Your shape-shifting powers could come in handy. You work for us-"

"Ha! Why would I work with a bunch of snot-nosed brats like you?"

"-and I won't let Goku eat you." She finished.

Oolong scowled. "Your scare tactics won't work on me, girly. I've faced down threats that would make you wet your pants. People have tried to turn me into a shish kebab, bbq'ed pork! And did any of them succeed? No, they did n-YEOWCH!"

Goku chewed on Oolong's ear. "Tasty pig," he mumbled.

"Bon apetit, Goku," Bulma said cheerfully. "You can have it all. I already ate."

Goku opened his mouth wide. Oolong squealed. "Okay, okay! I'll do it!"

Bulma pulled the hungry boy away, patting him on the head consolingly. "We'll get you something else to eat. He probably had swine flu anyway."

* * *

**Hou Zi City**

Mai and Shu felt their backs press up against the wall. The _thing _continued to advanced on them. It was big and ugly, skin a pus-yellow and tusks about as long as Mai's middle finger. They glanced around the narrow alley, looking for an exit. Mai's hand tightened on the dragon ball.

"I'm going to ask you this nicely," it sneered, a mocking grin splitting its face. "Come quietly and no one gets hurt."

Pilaf's minions glanced at each other, then, on a silent signal, they attacked. Shu darted under the creature's outstretched fist, slicing upwards at its throat. Mai used the opening in its defense to release a barrage of bullets at its chest. Without a pause, she ran under its legs and reappeared behind it, firing a shot at its head, point blank range.

The pair stepped back, sharing satisfied smirks as smoke from Mai's gun engulfed them.

Then two yellow claws shot forward and wrapped around their necks.

"You filthy Saiyans," the ogre spat furiously as it strangled Mai and Shu. "Don't think those human bodies can hide you from us."

It leaned in close, burying its nose in Mai's skin as she choked and kicked at its tough hide. "I can smell your evil energy."

"Actually," a fist punched through the ogre's back and out its chest, splattering green blood. "That would be me."

Mai dropped to the ground, gasping for air, as the ogre's lifeless body fell to the ground with a _THUD. _She looked up at their savior, blanching as the blood-splattered face appeared inches away from her own.

"Well, well," Kakkarot grinned. "What do we have here?"

* * *

**Fire Mountain**

"She's a bit timid, but a sweet girl! You can even make her your bride if you want!" The Ox King declared.

Bulma raised an eyebrow. What kind of father would marry his daughter off to someone he'd only just met? It was lucky that Goku was extremely naive.

"What's a bride? Some kind of food?" Perhaps _too _naive...

"Of sorts," Oolong muttered lecherously. Bulma smacked the back of his head.

* * *

She was beautiful.

Kakkarot gazed at the princess. She lay on the ground, her cape draped across her shoulders. Her soft face, almost hidden by the large helmet that crowned her head, was round and innocent, framed by the darkest locks of hair. He could almost mistake her for one of his kind, but she was much too soft to be one. And so beautiful.

He crouched next to her, shaking her gently.

"Wh-wha?" she opened her eyes groggily.

"Are you alright?" Kakkarot asked softly.

"Wh-who are-?" she squinted at the sun's bright glare.

He smiled. "My name is-"

_Kakkarot! Where the fuck are you?!_ Vegeta's voice rang through his head.

Kakkarot sighed, helping the princess up. He raised her hand to his lips. "I have to go now, milady."

"Wait, at least tell me your- " he disappeared into thin air. "...name." Chichi finished.

"Hey!" called out a voice from above her. "Are you Chichi?"

She blinked at the familiar face peering over a cloud. "Weren't you wearing armor a second ago?"

* * *

**Kame Island**

"The Banshou Fan, eh?" Muten Roshi rubbed his chin. "I'm sorry, I threw it out when Turtle spilled juice on it."

Chichi's eyes widened in despair. "But what about my home?" she wailed.

"Don't worry. This old man still has a few tricks up his sleeve." Muten Roshi grinned.

* * *

**Frypan Mountain**

"So this is Frypan Mountain. Quite a fire," Roshi remarked.

"Can you really put that out, gramps?" Goku asked, shielding his eyes from the heat.

Roshi didn't answer, instead poking him. "Remember the condition."

"Oh, right," Goku remembered. "Bulma, Master Roshi wants to touch your chest."

Bulma's eyes bugged. "He WHAT?"

"I won't put out the fire if you don't let me." Roshi wheedled.

"You've gotta be kidding me!" Bulma snapped. "Why would I let you do something like that?"

"You won't be able to get the dragon balls if that fire isn't put out," he reminded her.

"What's the big deal?" Goku asked, confused. "Just let him touch them."

"SHUT UP YOU!" Bulma fumed. "Fine! But only after you put out the fire."

Muten Roshi sniggered pervertedly and took off his shirt. He admired his stick-thin figure. "Sexy, ain't it?" he leered.

"Very," Bulma deadpanned.

He stepped over the wall. Suddenly, his muscles bulged, ballooning out to cover the expanse of his upper body. His audience gaped at the now-buff old man.

"I can't believe we're about to see the legendary Kamehameha," Yamcha mumbled from his hiding spot. "It's said to be Muten Roshi's most powerful technique."

"KA...ME...HA...ME...HA!" A burst of Ki shot out from Muten Roshi's cupped palms, disintegrating the fire in one fell swoop. Bulma felt that maybe it was an oxymoron to apply 'disintegrating' to 'fire', but that was what had literally happened.

Roshi seemed to deflate, muscles shrinking into his previous skin and bones appearance. "Whew. That took a lot out of me."

"Wow. Can you teach me that, grandpa?" Goku asked in amazement.

"Sorry boy," Roshi panted. "That technique there took me fifty years to master. I don't think I want to put up with a student like you for that long."

Roshi suddenly tensed. An enormous Ki appeared in the area, easily a dozen times his own. It was nothing like he'd ever felt before. He whipped around, searching for the source of the Ki. There! Within the ruins, a silhouette of a child held up a round object to its face.

"Fifty years?" the figure repeated. There was a cold, mocking lilt to his voice. It was part evil and part insane, filled with enough danger and sadism to make Roshi realize that this person had killed, a lot. And had enjoyed it. Roshi gritted his teeth as the dark aura spiked and washed over his senses. "I knew you humans were weak, but to take fifty years to fire up a decent power ball is just pathetic. And here I was under the impression that you were one of the most powerful of your kind."

The others took a step back as the figure advanced. Bulma, on the other hand, had started moving forward as soon as the person had started talking, recognition awash on her face.

"Vegeta?" she whispered in askance.

* * *

**Aaaand CUT! That's it for this chapter, folks!**

**R&R Please. :)**


	7. Animalistic

**Thank you everyone who reviewed, favorited, or followed this story! :)**

**Pointer39: Thanks for being my most faithful reader/reviewer.:)  
I'm not actually holding them hostage because I usually don't have the new chapter in advance. The reason I asked for reviews before I started writing the next chapter was because some people remarked that the storyline was awkward or confusing, and I'd like to know what people expect before I write the new chapter so it doesn't confuse anyone and I don't have to go back and edit every chapter, thereby confusing the ones who've read the unedited version. And..well, I admit that I'm avaricious when there's something I like, and I like reviews, lol. I didn't mean to sound desperate or conceited when I asked for a minimum number of reviews. Won't do it again. :P**  
**As for chapter five, that was just a filler. XD I meant that I wouldn't be alternating between space-earth scenes (or other completely different scenes happening simultaneously with no immediate connection) quite as often.  
What? No, that's Vegeta. :P. For all intents and purposes, Goku and Kakkarot are separate beings**, **for reasons that will be explained later on, so the one who woke Chichi up was Kakkarot, but then Vegeta called him, so he left. Then Goku came to rescue Chichi while he was riding the Nimbus Cloud. Chichi asked why he wasn't wearing armor because she thought that Goku was Kakkarot.** **Then she went with Goku to find Master Roshi.**  
**P.S. About the Vegeta/Zarbon interaction, it'll still be there, just in another chapter. ;)**

**KimiruMai: Thanks! :D**  
**No, actually. Vegeta altered his DNA like his father did, so he has black hair and eyes like his original body, although not necessarily a carbon copy. But his host's original appearance WILL have a purpose. ;)**

* * *

**748 AD**

* * *

**Hou Zi City, 11. 30 a.m.  
**

"These 'dragon balls'. They can grant any wish?" Vegeta questioned, examining the orange ball with interest.

"That's what the humans said," Kakkarot confirmed. "I don't think they were lying."

"They could have been delusional, though." Vegeta said carelessly. "Neither seemed to be in their right mind, from what I saw. What exactly did you do that scared them so bad?"

"Nothing to them personally. Although I did kill several ogres in rather gruesome ways, and they may or may not have witnessed this." Kakkarot admitted.

"Weak Earthlings," Vegeta snorted. "I want details."

"Well, I may have decapitated a couple of ogres," he fidgeted, embarrassed. "Speared two, roasted four, punched a hole through that last one, and the other one is alive, but he can never have children again."

Vegeta's eyebrows disappeared into his bangs. "What?"

"I really don't like ogres." Kakkarot admitted sheepishly. "And I did get a tad angry

The prince stared at his subordinate for a long minute, noting that there was _far _more to him than met the eye. "Moving on," he said finally. "What else did they say?"

"Seven balls are needed before the wish can be made. When it is done, they will scatter throughout the planet." Kakkarot reported. "There are also several limitations, but the humans were not informed of the specifics."

"I see."

"Do you want to collect them?"

"To beat Frieza?"

"To wish back Vegetasei." Kakkarot corrected.

"And the Saiyan bodies along with it," Vegeta mused. "Frieza would never know.".

"Well?" Kakkarot prompted.

Vegeta grinned. "It seems that this planet is turning out to be much more than a backwater mud ball. Let's go."

* * *

**Hou Zi City, 22. 00 p.m.  
**

_"You can _not_ take another hit like that, do you hear me?"_

_"...Careful...that's almost...concern...I hear..."_

_"Dammit, Kakkarot!" Vegeta growled, glaring at the ghost, who was semi-translucent and fading more and more by the minute. "Why the fuck did you even do that?"_

_"Couldn't...let...her get...hurt..." Kakkarot panted._

_"Idiot," Vegeta muttered, concentrating on pouring energy into the ghost. "Fucking idiot."_

* * *

**(Earlier)Mt Frypan, 13. 30 p.m.**_  
_

She was gorgeous, he admitted. It had been a year since he had last dreamt of the woman. His last memory of her was vague, and certainly didn't do her any justice. He examined her, noting the way blue contrasted alluringly with white skin. And her fiery attitude...he hadn't noticed it in any of his dreams; the woman had spunk. What he had seen as spoiled behavior from his first-person point of view, now seemed like a vibrant spirit burning in her, as he watched her eyes blaze with bright flames when she got angry. Her curves didn't hurt either. Vegeta smirked. He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed just how gorgeous she was.

Or perhaps it was the heat getting to him. Vegeta glanced around the burning hallway he was standing in. That would certainly explain all the fire metaphors.

When Kakkarot came in with the report of two humans searching for the dragon balls, he had known that he would eventually encounter Bulma Briefs. In his dreams, the woman never stopped blabbing about them. Although she was incredibly shallow or just plain dumb if she _still _wanted to wish for a life supply of strawberries.

So it hadn't surprised him when he saw her, although her beauty did give him a pause. What _had _surprised him was the presence of 'Son Goku'. Vegeta was fairly certain that he was a recent addition in Bulma's posse, or he'd have seen Son Goku through her. This 'Goku' was Kakkarot's body, he was sure of it. But that didn't explain how a supposedly empty body operated on a fully functioning consciousness. Unless the body wasn't empty? Perhaps this Son Goku was also a wandering spirit, and had chosen Kakkarot's body to possess when he found it without a soul.

Vegeta rummaged through the burning wreckage, growling in frustration at yet another dragonball-less area. This would be so much easier to figure out if he knew how Kakkarot had ended up without a physical body. Unfortunately, the person himself didn't have a clue.  
_  
"I just woke up in the mountains one day,"_ _Kakkarot said through a mouthful of croissant. "I didn't know where I was, or who I was, and when a vine tripped me, I discovered that I could pass through solid objects like the ground."_

_"How could a vine have tripped you if you were intangible?" Vegeta asked skeptically._  
_"Because I can choose whether to be intangible and not." Kakkarot answered easily. "How did you think I hunted for food?"_  
_"You're one_ _weird ghost. Didn't you ever try looking for your body?"_  
_"Of course I did, but not physically," Kakkarot's smile shrank. "I tried connecting with my body telepathically. And there was something _blocking _me_. _There was a..." he struggled to find the word. "...rebound. Like there was already someone else taking up all the space in there."_

_"Do you think your body is being inhabited? Perhaps someone else is living in it, using it as his personal puppet." Vegeta said in his typical callous way. He moved suddenly, dodging to the left, and stared at the knife protruding from the wall where his head had just been. "What the hell is your problem?" he asked incredulously._

_Kakkarot snarled_, _expression feral. Alarmed, Vegeta probed his mind, shocked to find it full of bloodlust where it had been calm a second ago. Then Kakkarot lunged at him._

After extensively questioning his father, he had discovered that ghosts-especially Saiyan ones-were largely unable to control their instincts without bodies. This was because ghosts did not become what they were without a certain obsession, and it consumed them. They escaped from HFIL, true, but one needed a motivation to _stay_ out. His great-grandfather, for example, seemed to have decided that his goal would be to haunt his offspring (despite his vehement denials). It was a useless obsession, but it got the point across, seeing as the man had never failed to scold his descendants whenever they committed folly. Without his body, his obsession was all Vegeta the Fifth could think of doing, until his common sense was overwhelmed.

When they were angry, their instinctive bloodthirst would rise to the surface to destroy whatever was in front of them. Every move became pure instinct, yet the trigger was often unclear. He'd heard that his great-grandfather had destroyed the left wing once in a pique after one of the younger soldiers insulted his favorite dish. To summarize, Saiyan ghosts were _completely _IED.

Vegeta learned that talking about Kakkarot's missing body was a sore point, and _would _send him into a rage. So they hadn't had any progress in finding the errant body. Until now.

He was interrupted from his musings when he sensed a fairly decent ki ball headed his way. He looked up, raising an eyebrow at the old man barely visible through the burning window. If he wasn't mistaken, that was Muten Roshi, one of the strongest fighters in Earthling history.

He was about to dodge out of the way, when something orange caught his eye from inside a piece of armor.

Vegeta stared at the dragonball in disbelief. _Seriously? It chooses now to show up? Life's a bitch._

Now what was he going to do? If he dodged, he'd lose the dragon ball. If he didn't...he'd get hit by a giant ki ball.

_Hell, I've survived worse. _Vegeta grabbed the dragon ball, pulling it loose from the armor just as the power ball hit. The palace shook, offering little resistance, then blew apart into pieces of broken stone and ash.

"...rry boy," he heard after his ears stopped ringing. "That technique took me fifty years to master. I don't think I want to put up with a student like you for that long."

Vegeta shook his head to clear it, feeling his power level spike in annoyance. "Fifty years? I knew you humans were weak, but to take fifty years to fire up a decent power ball is just pathetic." he spat out spitefully. The stupid human had nearly destroyed the dragon ball, and him along with it had he been human. He checked the dragon ball for any sign of damage. Weren't these Earthlings supposed to have some form of scouter or internal energy-sensing device? "And here I was under the impression that you were one of the most powerful of your kind."

He stepped out of the rubble, taking purposeful strides towards the group. He pondered on what to do first. Should he take the dragon balls or deal with the spirit possessing Kakkarot's body?

Then the woman looked at him with those gorgeous blue eyes, and whispered, "Vegeta?"

* * *

_It's not him._

That was all Bulma could think as the child stepped out of the rubble. There was a strong resemblance, but it wasn't him. This boy also had black hair and blacker eyes, as well as certain similarities about his size, but there were also the differences. His cheeks were rounder and rosier than Vegeta's sharp angles, his skin pale instead of a deep tan, he had pudgy baby fat, and eyes that were too wide altogether. All in all, he was too _human _to be the Saiyan Prince.

Several things happened quickly following the realization. A breeze flew by her, then suddenly the mystery child as a lot closer, holding her dragon ball pouch and smirking, then he spoke.

_"I see you've finally fixed that radar. But I'm afraid I need the dragon ball_s_."_

It took Bulma a moment before she realized that he was speaking in a different language. A guttural sort of noise that twisted and spun in ancient, archaic patterns. It was somewhat familiar, though she couldn't quite remember where she'd heard it.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded, grabbing the pouch. The language could wait. These were her dragon balls! She grunted when the bag refused to budge. "You can't have those, kid."

"Really, now?" he said in Japanese. "And what can you do to stop me?"

Bulma scowled, leaning down to look him in the eye. "A brat like you can't possibly comprehend what those are. Now hand them over to Auntie Bulma and run along back to mummy."

The child's eyes narrowed. Bulma felt a dangerous shift in the air, then Roshi stepped up in front of her, gaining the mystery kid's attention. He looked up at the old man without a shred of fear, despite having been hit head-on with his Kamehameha wave.

"If it's the dragon balls you want, take them and leave." Roshi said tensely. Bulma's eyes bugged out and she let out an angry squawk.

"My thanks," the boy answered in a poisonously sweet voice. "Not that you had a choice."

"What the hell, Roshi?" she yelled. "Those are _my _dragon balls! _I _found them! You have no right to-"

"Bulma, be quiet." Muten Roshi said sharply, still looking at the dark haired boy warily. Bulma's jaw clicked shut, but she glared at the old man. He would get an earful later.

A dark chuckle came from the child. "Don't worry. I'm quite fond of the woman. I'd rather not hurt her."

Bulma stopped glaring at Roshi to look at the boy. "What?"

He ignored her, opening the pouch slightly to examine the contents. His eyes flickered to Goku for a brief second, before he froze and turned to look at Goku fully.

Bulma watched the flurry of emotions cross his face. First confusion, then realization, disbelief, shock, before settling to panic. "Kakkarot, _don't!"_The ground shook with a massive shock wave. She heard Goku scream, and turned back to see him being pinned down by an angry...Goku?

"_GET OUT!" _the other Goku screamed. "That's _my _body! GET OUT!"

The mystery child cursed beside her, turning to the wrestling pair with livid determination.

"Wait!" Bulma grabbed his shoulder in alarm. She didn't know much about power levels or martial arts, but it was clear that Goku was an incredibly powerful boy. To be brought down so easily meant that his lookalike was at least twice as strong. She spotted the tail around his waist. _And he's Saiyan too. _The mystery child, though lean and muscled, looked far too human to get involved in the fight between the two aliens.

He shook her off, marching towards the two. He yelled in that same foreign language. The other Goku turned to look at him, befuddled. He kept talking, by his tone, Bulma guessed that what ever he was saying was an explanation. The other Goku looked puzzled, then an animalistic anger filled his countenance, as he lunged at the other boy.

Bulma screamed and Roshi sucked in a sharp breath. They clashed in mid air, exchanging a flurry of blows too fast for her to see. The other Goku crashed to the ground, snarling. The two resumed their battle.

"Bulma, let's go." Roshi said urgently. "It's too dangerous," he added, seeing that she was about to argue. "Get Chichi and the Ox King. I'll get Goku."

She nodded, scanning for the two royals. There! In the wreckage, both were lying down, looking dazed. They must have been hit by the Kamehameha's aftershocks or the other Goku's upon his arrival. Bulma sprinted to them worriedly. She snuck a peek at the battle above her, balking when she saw the ki blasts being exchanged. The mystery child pulled back from his opponent, and released a barrage of small power balls. The other Goku deflected them and they went wide.

Bulma shrieked, diving to the ground. She felt heat kiss her skin, scorching the ends of her ponytail. Numerous explosions were heard as the errant ki attacks made impact. Bulma raised her head.

All the ki balls were gone, except one. It was sleek and blue, almost beautiful in its speed. Tongues of cerulean flame licked its sides, creating a meteorite-like effect as it flew past her. Almost in slow motion, Bulma watched it head straight for the Ox Princess Chichi.

* * *

Vegeta walked out of the rubble in swift, confident strides. _So the woman can tell who I am?_ But even as he watched, the woman's face fell as she saw his human face. _Guess not._  
******  
**He phased in front of her, swiping the brown bag from her belt. He eyed her rounded hips appreciatively, and wondered if it was creepy to think like that in a human child's body. The only reason he had chosen this body was because it was close to his own in size, then again his body had probably reached its growth spurt by now...  
******  
**He looked up at her, smirking. _"I see you've finally fixed that radar. But I'm afraid I need the dragon balls."_

Vegeta scanned her face for any indication that she understood the language. There was recognition in her eyes, but no comprehension.  
**  
**"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She glared at him, trying to grab the pouch, which he held firmly. There was a short, one-sided struggle. "You can't have those!"  
******  
**"Really, now?" he said, amused. "And what can you do to stop me?"  
******  
**Her face turned an attractive shade of angry red. Then she rested her hands on her knees, leaning down until he was staring into her large blue eyes. " A brat like you can't possibly comprehend what those are. Now hand them over to Auntie Bulma and run along back to mummy."  
**********  
**He glared at her furiously. The idiot woman was belittling him! He felt his energy rise sharply, and prepared to attack her. Nothing serious, maybe just a small ki shot. To see the look of horror on her face when heat passed close enough to burn her... Or he could just set her hair on fire.  
**************  
**Vegeta toyed with the idea when the old man, Muten Roshi, stepped between him and the woman, blocking his view of her. He scowled.

"If it's the dragon balls you want, then take them and leave." he said firmly, although Vegeta was trained enough to hear the barest hints of terror.

"My thanks," he said, his voice a saccharine sweet. "Not that you had a choice."

"What the hell, Roshi?" the woman exploded. "Those are my dragon balls! You have no right to-"

"Bulma, be quiet!" the old man said sharply. Vegeta scowled at the man's audacity to order the woman around.

Bulma gave Muten Roshi the evil eye, already planning retribution. Vegeta chuckled at her expression. "Don't worry," he said to the old man, although he kept his eyes on Bulma. "I'm quite fond of the woman. I'd rather not hurt her."

The woman turned to look at him in confusion. "What?"

Vegeta stayed silent, lightly brushing against Son Goku's mind, opening the pouch of dragon balls as he did so. Then he jerked back, stunned, and his head snapped up to look at the other Saiyan.

_What the..._

The mind inside Kakkarot's body did not carry the intrusive feel a spirit would have if it was possessing a host. When a body was inhabited by a foreign presence, there was always a certain out-of-place sense to them, like forcing a rectangular block into a circular hole. This was the feeling he always sensed when he entered his father's or one of the other Saiyan's minds. But this 'Son Goku' did not feel like a foreign presence in Kakkarot's body. It felt too right, as though it actually _belonged _there.

He frowned, giving the presence a shove. It stuck on like glue. There was no doubt that this 'Son Goku' was the spirit that fit the body he was in. Vegeta narrowed his eyes, _but how..?_

_I tried connecting with my body. And there was something blocking me... like a rebound._

A body wouldn't reject its original spirit. Was it possible that in his absence, Kakkarot's body created a _new _consciousness to control it? It was an outlandish concept...but it would fit.

_Vegeta?_

Too late, he slammed his mental barriers shut to keep Kakkarot from seeing his body. A howl of bestial rage rang through his head, and he felt the Saiyan ghost approaching, quickly, headed straight for his body.

"Kakkarot, _don't!"_

Son Goku screamed in pain as Kakkarot rammed into him, wrapping his hands around the other's throat. "GET OUT! That's _my _body! _GET OUT!"_

"Fucking hell," Vegeta growled, moving towards the two angrily.

"Wait!" A soft hand fell on his shoulder, and he was prepared to shake it off before he realized it was the woman. He looked up at her, annoyed. He blinked at the expression of panic and fear on her face. She was scared for herself, true, but more than that... _She's worried for me?_

The woman didn't even know who he was! And he'd just baited and stolen from her.

Vegeta shook off her grip, shoving his confusion to the back of his mind. It could wait.

_"Kakkarot!" _he yelled in Saiya-go. The Saiyan in question looked up, a glimmer of acknowledgement for his prince shining behind animalistic eyes.

_"Calm down," _Vegeta ordered. _"What I'm about to tell you is of delicate nature." _having said that, he blurted it out._ "You can't reclaim your body. What ever is in there, it isn't a different presence. Maybe your body made up a new mind while you were gone, maybe you're schizophrenic. It doesn't matter. The fact is, you can't reclaim your body while Son Goku is in there."_

Kakkarot stared at him blankly, like a dumb animal. Vegeta wondered if he had understood any of that, before his face contorted in fury, and he attacked.

Vegeta cursed, dodging the blows and returning them rapidly**.** _"You demented son of a whore!" _He slipped under Kakkarot's defenses, landing a solid hit that sent the crazed Saiyan crashing to the ground. He snarled angrily, flying up to fire a large ki blast at Vegeta, grazing his clothes.

Vegeta pulled off the charred jacket, eyes darkening in fury. _"So that's how you want to play it? Fine then."_

He powered up and fired a series of ki blasts at his opponent. _"Renzoku Eneruji Dan!"_

Kakkarot deflected the blasts, sending them careening to the Earthlings. Vegeta cursed, calculating the blasts' trajectory, grimacing as one narrowly missed the woman. Determining that none of the others were going to hit her, he turned back to Kakkarot, blinking in surprise at the flash of sanity in his eyes.

Kakkarot followed the blue blasts, eyes widening in worry every time one hit the ground. When Vegeta was sure that they were all gone, one emerged from the debris and headed straight for a brunette Earthling around Kakkarot's age.

Oh well. No big loss.

It was then that he noticed Kakkarot was no longer in front of him, and was flying down to intercept the blast.

_That fucking idiot!_

* * *

Kakkarot yawned, watching his hand turn disappear, then reappear, then disappear again. Vegeta had told him to search for the last dragon ball. He hadn't found it, so he was waiting for the prince to get back. While the planet was small, it was still large and cluttered enough to hide the infinitely smaller orange ball.

Even if he did find it, he highly doubted he'd be able to carry it. As a ghost, the only things he could touch were otherworldly beings, like the ogres or Saiyan-inhabited bodies, and energy balls. The last one though, was dangerous. Ki balls affected him differently than living beings. For whatever reason, he was literally able to absorb the ki, but the downside was that it could absorb _his _ghostly life force as well, until the ki ran out of steam. When he had explained this to his father, Bardock had warned him that a powerful enough blast would drain him, and he it, until they cancelled each other out. At that point he would...die was not the right word, he supposed, but he couldn't really think of anything suitable. Perhaps Vegeta would know the correct term

He reached out carefully with his mind, feeling for his boss/best friend's presence. _Vegeta? _

_But this Son Goku did not feel like a foreign presence in Kakkarot's body._

_There was no doubt that this 'Son_ _Goku' was the spirit that fit the body he was in._

_Was it possible that Kakkarot's body created a new consciousness to control it?_

Kakkarot felt his insides boiling with rage. He observed his body through Vegeta's eyes, sensing the presence _inside _it that was not him. How dare this upstart take his body?

Angry, primitive instinct surfaced, locking his common sense somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind. An ugly, ferocious feeling took control of his body, and he let. He felt animalistic anger_. _Someone else had trespassed on his territory, usurping his place as Alpha. He could not let that slide.

He concentrated on moving, to the place where his body was, and suddenly he was there. He spied his target across the plane, having only one thought to eliminate the trespasser. He shot across the charred landscape, wrapping his hands around the trespasser's throat. A vicious satisfaction rose up in him as the trespasser screamed. He bashed his head (that was his body's head, so the trespasser had to pay even more for making him damage his own body) against the hard rocky ground. Once, twice, until the trespasser was quiet and still.

_"_Kakkarot!" he looked up, vaguely acknowledging that the person in front of him was of a superior rank, therefore he should listen. "Calm down," the person ordered, following up with a preposterous explanation about the trespasser _belonging _in his body. "...fact is, you can't reclaim your body while Son Goku is in there."

Kakkarot stared at the other Saiyan. This wasn't right. His superior would never tell him those words. His superior (who was also his best friend whose name he could not remember) would not tell him that he could not regain his body, because his friend would know how much it meant to him. Then that would mean that this was not his friend at all. An imposter.

He howled, lunging at the imposter with a barrage of hits. They had stolen his body, and now his best friend's as well?

Kakkarot snarled as he failed to land a hit, abandoning defense in the face of offense. A mistake, as it turned out, because a rough force slammed into his solar plexus to send him crashing into the ground. He glared up with a wild-eyed look of rage, forming a large ki ball until his limited patience ran out and he threw it at the imposter. It didn't hit, but it set his coat on fire.

The imposter pulled the burning item off furiously, powering up his own attack. "Renzoku Eneruji Dan!"

He saw the ki blasts aimed at him, and deflected them angrily before they touched his skin. The imposter had made another mistake. His friend knew that ki blasts were deadly to him, and would not have sent out an attack like that with full knowledge that it would kill. (The second part he made up himself from a general knowledge of what friends are like. Had he been in his right mind, he would have known that the prince needed no reason to kill even the closest to him and would do so without remorse.)

His eyes followed the blue blasts with a primeval pride. A sort of bestial dominance game where he had just swiped away the enemy's claws before they had made contact, which gave him a short, victorious feeling.

Then one power ball escaped from the dust, shooting out to destroy one of the Earthlings. The small one, with the pink helmet, who-

_NO!_

All animal instinct fled from his brain, to be replaced with pure panic. That was Princess Chichi! If the ki blast hit her, it was all over!

Chichi looked to groggy to dodge, she wouldn't be able to get out of the way in time! Kakkarot sped down to land in front of her, absorbing the blast into his body.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard Chichi scream, then his world faded to black.

* * *

**Hou Zi City, 22. 00 p.m.**

It was hours later, and Vegeta was still transferring energy into him.

He wanted to tell him to stop, and had several times, only to be ignored. At this rate, Vegeta would pass out before the midnight bell tolled.

"You can _not _take another hit like that, do you hear me?" Vegeta ranted. Kakkarot grimaced. When the blast had hit him, it was like being punched in the gut by a troll, then latched onto by a leech. He had been nearly completely drained, unable to even stay conscious. The only reason he was still alive was because of the ki Vegeta was lending him right now.

He wouldn't be able to survive another blast like that.

He considered reminding Vegeta that it was him who had thrown the damn attack in the first place, but quickly changed his mind. It really wouldn't do to antagonize the prince in his current situation. Plus, Vegeta had probably already created an excuse in his mind to absolve himself of guilt that undoubtedly made no sense to anyone but the prince himself. Kakkarot suspected that this was a product of dealing with purges for Frieza since the age of five.

"Heh..." he said shakily, struggling to draw air into his phantom lungs. "...Careful...that's almost...concern...I hear..."

"Dammit Kakkarot!" Vegeta exploded angrily. "Why did you even do that?"

Kakkarot remembered the beautiful princess whose life had been in danger, imagining what would have happened if he had let the blast hit her. His chest twisted with pain. No, he could never let any harm come to her. "Couldn't...let her...get hurt..." he managed through labored gasps.

"Idiot," Vegeta hissed. Kakkarot felt himself drifting off under the relaxing stream of energy being poured into him. "Fucking _idiot."_

* * *

**So...did anyone get all that? :P********3 am writing makes me imagine strange things...tell me if you're confused by anything. ^_^**

**R&R**!  
.


	8. Scoldings

**Enjoy!  
**

* * *

**Otherworld**

"I know, I KNOW!" King Yemma roared. The bickering Kais fell silent.  
**  
**"Do you know how to fix this, Yemma?" A fat Kai who strangely resembled a catfish asked.  
**  
**"I've got it under control." the red ogre insisted.  
**  
**"Then _why," _Kibito bit out. "Have the Saiyan race been residing on Earth for nearly two years now?"  
**  
**"I'm working on it. I'll get them back." Yemma promised.  
**  
**"See that you do," Old Kai said coldly. "Or we'd be the first to witness the rise of the Saiyan Empire."  
**  
**Yemma shuddered in fear.

* * *

**Mt Frypan  
**

Bulma's mind reeled as Roshi ushered her and a hysterical Chichi into the capsule car. What had she just seen out there?

She had known that Goku was a Saiyan from the start. The tail was a dead giveaway, and from Vegeta's memories there had been one other survivor who had managed to get away - only _one. _Then who was the Goku-lookalike and where had he come from? He was Saiyan as well, there was no doubt about it. Maybe someone else had managed to get away without Vegeta's knowledge? But that still didn't explain how the hell the Goku-lookalike had even _gotten _there in the first place. She could have sworn that he hadn't been there just seconds before he attacked Goku. It was like he'd appeared out of thin air.

_Some form of teleportation, maybe?_ Bulma scowled. _Just what _can't_ these Saiyans do?_

The mystery boy, the one who reminded her of Vegeta, though, had known that he was coming. A split second before the lookalike had appeared, he'd yelled something in panic, rushing into the fray right after. How had he sensed him and just how was he able to hold off a Saiyan who had overpowered Goku so easily?

Just who was he?

Chichi whimpered beside her, breaking Bulma out of her thoughts. She looked down at the smaller girl in concern. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

The Ox Princess shook her head rapidly, tears falling down her face. "He protected me," she said in a whisper.

Bulma winced. Now _that _had been a surprising turn of events. After the Goku-lookalike had deflected a barrage of what looked to be miniature versions of Muten Roshi's Kamehameha, one had shot out straight towards Chichi. Bulma had watched in horror, a wordless scream escaping her lips, as the blast impacted. But when the bright glare faded, the sight that greeted her had not been that of a charred Ox Princess, rather a shaken one, standing behind the Goku-lookalike.

Bulma had barely managed to see his face turning ashen, when he collapsed face-down in rubble, gasping for air. In an instant, the other boy was beside him, yelling what was most likely curses in that unidentifiable language.

That was when Roshi had raced to the scene, helping Chichi up, as he signaled to her to get in the capsule car. The dark haired boy seemed to ignore the three of them as he focused on the Goku-lookalike. Roshi had shoved the two girls into the car, told them to s_tay put _and ran back outside to rescue the Ox King and Goku.

She felt a hand on her sleeve, and looked down to meet Chichi's large brown eyes. "Do you think he's okay, Bulma?"

Bulma hesitated. "I don't know."

She fiddled with her bag, which was mildly crispy, sinking back into her thoughts. Then she realized something very important. Her dragon ball radar was missing.

Panicking, Bulma frantically searched her burnt bag, pouring all its contents out when she couldn't find it. With dread, Bulma confirmed that the radar was gone. It had probably fallen out of her bag and been incinerated when that blast had missed her. She nearly sobbed. It would take years to construct a new one!

The door slid open with a bang. Bulma was immediately on her feet, pushing Chichi behind her, and pointed her handgun at the new person. "Don't move!"

"Whoa, whoa!" Yamcha the Dessert Bandit backed up, raising his empty hands. "I'm unarmed."

"What are you doing here?" Bulma barked, not lowering the gun.

"Ummm.." Yamcha scratched his cheek nervously. "We were wondering if we could hitch a ride? It's crazy out there."

She narrowed her eyes. "And how can we trust you? You tried to steal our dragon balls."

"There's nothing for me to steal right now." Yamcha pointed out. Bulma grimaced. "And I could, you know, provide protection or something? I'm pretty good at martial arts."

"Yeah, right," Bulma scoffed.

"It's true!"

"Where were you when that boy started attacking, then?" Bulma demanded. "Hiding behind a rock?"

Yamcha flushed angrily and opened his mouth to retort when Roshi slammed the door open, Goku in his arms and the Ox King in tow.

"Drive," he ordered, leaving no room for argument.

* * *

**Unknown, Other Realm**

Yemma did not want to resort to this. It was distasteful, sneaky, and underhanded. It was breaking all the rules of the realm of the living and the dead.

But he needed to get the Saiyans back. He took a deep breath and picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Yes, about those nanobots you gave me...can they be used to suck out souls?"****

"Damage to the host soul? No, it's fine... So can you-? Wonderful. Get it done."  
**  
**

* * *

**Hou Zi City  
**

"I said I was sorry!"

"Sorry doesn't cut it," Bardock snapped. "Deliberately putting yourself in danger like that for an Earthling. Do you have any idea how much danger you were in? What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't, not really. But-"

"Obviously!" his father roared. "You could have died!"

"But I didn't," Kakkarot said, frustrated. "I'm completely fine."

"Only because of the prince, and he still hasn't woken up." Bardock reminded his son with a steely glare.

Kakkarot winced, guilt filling his chest. His predictions had been off, and Vegeta had lasted until dawn before he had dropped like a sack of bricks. That was how Bardock had found them in the morning, Vegeta passed out and Kakkarot frantically trying to wake him up.

It had taken a while to calm him down and convince him that yes, the crowned prince was unconscious with practically nonexistent ki, yes, they were both fine, _really_, and no, there was no attacker that he needed to decapitate. After that it had led to a stuttered explanation, which resulted in a wide eyed look of disbelief followed by plenty of yelling on Bardock's part and feeble denials on his.

Bardock put a hand over his mouth and took deep breaths to calm himself. "Why were you there?"

"I told you, I was trying to save her, so I just jumped in front of the blast and-"

"Not that!" Bardock snapped. "The mountain. Why were you at the mountain?"

Kakkarot paled. He had known this question would come, but how was he to answer it? 'Oh nothing pops, I just found my body which is being possessed by something else that fits better in it than me, so all your hard work in training me is useful for jack shit in fighting Frieza because I don't have a fucking body.'

That would go well. He opened his mouth to formulate a lie, when another voice joined in their conversation.

"We found his body."

Both father and son whirled around to look at the sofa where the prince was lying.

"Are you okay?" Kakkarot exclaimed, at the same time Bardock asked, "What do you mean you found his body?"

Choosing to ignore his friend altogether, Vegeta focused on Bardock. "I found Kakkarot's body on Mount Frypan while we were searching for magical artefacts called the Dragon Balls."

"Dragon balls?" Bardock repeated. Kakkarot opened his mouth to explain. "Never mind, continue."

"Kakkarot's body had a fully functional mind, for the most part. I decided to take a peek and destroy whatever unwanted presence was in there." Vegeta paused, furrowing his eyebrows. "But..."

"But?" Bardock prompted.

"But it wasn't an unwanted or foreign presence at all. It was like whoever was in there actually belonged to that body."

"That's impossible." Bardock frowned.

Vegeta shrugged. "Well, that's what happened. Now someone go get me some breakfast."

* * *

**Hou Zi City, Elsewhere**

King Vegeta was rubbing his beard and wondering where the fuck his son was when the page burst in.

"Sir, twenty Saiyans have been reported missing! And their hosts were found dead!"

* * *

**So... R&R? :D**

**Up next:**

**_"I don't know what you're talking about," Bulma argued defiantly. _**

**_"That's too bad." Then the hand pressed against Goku's temple glowed, shooting out a deadly burst of ki straight into the Saiyan's skull._**


	9. Party Pooper

**Special thanks to those who favorited, followed, or reviewed this story.**

**Pointer39: Perhaps I'm mistaken, but main characters are ****_supposed_**** to appear a lot, yes?** **And it was switched twice (Bulma to Vegeta and Vegeta to Kakkarot. Count em.), not four times. To fill in the missing gaps. Thanks.**

**Morisako83: Not exactly. XD. You'll see.**

**KimiruMai: Okay, I'll try that. Thank you.**:)

**ImaginaryInk: Thanks for all the pointers. :)**

**Omigosh this is so late! I'm sorry, guys. Things have been busy with the student council and stuff.**

* * *

**Emperor Pilaf's Castle  
**

_Pilaf wanted to piss his pants and run to high hell. He'd never admit it, of course. What self-respecting Emperor would retreat in the face of adversity?_

_But when the angry man spoke again, he started to revise his principles._

_"I thought I told you to get the Dragon Balls, or I'd hang your blue entrails over my fireplace."_

_Pilaf shuddered, knowing that the threat was meant literally. "I tried," he said defensively. "I don't know how, but my minions are now locked up in padded rooms due to trauma, and-"_

_"I didn't ask for your life story. I asked you for the Dragon Balls. If you can't get them for me, I'm sure we could..._replace_ you."_

_"I can't!" Pilaf protested. "They have a freak with them, some tailed brat-"_

_"They have a Saiyan with them?" The voice turned sharp and low, urgent. "Answer carefully, now. Do they or do they not have a Saiyan with them?"_

_The blue emperor gulped. "Ah, a Saiyan is one of your kind, innit? Yes, yes, I'd say the brat's a Saiyan."_

_"Interesting." the man on the other end fell silent._

_"...Uh, sir?" Pilaf asked hesitantly, after the silence had dragged on long enough to be awkward._

_"Space travel takes a while, but I believe I can manage." The man mused, almost to himself._

_"What?" Pilaf asked, confused at the sudden change in subject._

_"Prepare your little planet. I'll be there with my crew in three years." Then the line went dead._

_"WHAT?"_

_Pilaf felt all color leave his face as he scrambled to turn on the communicator again. He held it to his ear and waited._

"You have reached Crusher Corps. The Captain is currently on a business meeting. To leave a message, press-"

_Emperor Pilaf numbly turned off the communicator, his face bluer than it had ever been. This was bad. This was very, very bad_.

* * *

**CC  
**

It was a grand event, for which the host had obviously spared no expense. From the intricate crystal chandelier to the polished marble floor, the room was decorated in elaborate - almost extravagant - detail. The curtains were a canvas of red in different shades, starting with blood-like burgundy and growing progressively lighter as it swirled down to end in an almost white shade of coral. The podium was made of fine wood; hard, strong, and covered in inflammable paint created by one of the many scientists gathered there. Beneath his feet, cold stone stretched out in an endless canvas, from one end of the room to the other. Its smooth texture only interrupted by the two dozen round cloth-covered tables spread in precise order, around which the Earthlings crowded and gathered.

The Earthlings themselves were fixed up in neat, expensive suits, and elegant dresses. Their presence were refined ones that blended in with the ballroom perfectly, like floral decorations to an elegant painting, gathered around tables that were piled high with delectable cuisine and the finest wine. The topic of the evening was a scientific discovery, one that was still in a testing phase, admittedly. But its prowess was such that it garnered the attention of every important intellectual on the planet, even in its embryonic state.

Vegeta hated it.

In his opinion, the host (Mr. Boxers? Dr. Bloomers? Something like that.) had wasted his money. The room itself was just an expensive, prettied up death trap that offered no protection from attacks or ambushes. The chandelier looked like it could fall on their heads at any moment, the curtains were thick enough to suffocate someone, and the windows provided such a view that not even a brainless amoeba worm with a P32 handgun could miss. The black contraption he was wearing was needlessly suffocating and limited movement. The food certainly looked appetizing, but it was just out _there _in the open, so anyone could have poisoned it. As for the so-called 'scientific discovery'- -humans were so behind in technology that it was already obsolete at this point. The only objects with any type of worth were Bulma's capsules. (It frustrated him that he had even thought about her. Infuriatingly, he had been unable to discern her reaction back at the burning mountains. The odd reaction that said she gave a shit about him.)

He had never liked festivities -or large gatherings of any kind, really, unless they were gatherings of people he was supposed to kill- though there had been plenty on Vegetasei. Celebratory ones, ceremonial events, birthdays, victories, the list went on... And he had been forced to attend every. Single. One.

(Presumably because of his status, but he hadn't seen Tarble at any of them.)

Still, at least the ceremonial robes they had worn did not make him resemble one of the flightless Earthling birds that lived on blocks of ice.

Frieza's base hadn't been lacking in parties either. Although they were mostly drunken ones thrown by the Ginyu Force.

He had hoped that festivities such as those were limited to the universe at large, leaving isolated planets out of their headache inducing grasp. It turned out that he was entirely wrong, although Earthling parties were different than the ones he had previously attended.

They were _worse. _

The rooms they utilized were always large, spacious bulls-eye targets with no force field or protection unit. The appropriate attire was always too revealing or too restrictive. The food, while it looked appetizing, was very easily poisoned. Kakkarot had told him that there was a different kind of party; an uninhibited one known as _club _where people got drunk and went home with various sexual partners who had mutative genes or STDs.

As he tugged on the contraption known as a '_tie', _he wondered which was preferable.

Why was he even here? He had far more important things to do! Like worry about the disappearance of their kind.

A few weeks ago, the day after he'd stolen the dragon balls, his people had started to, for lack of a better term, 'die off'. There was no fanfare, no grandiose explosion, no life-or-death struggle. One moment they were there, and the next they were not. Their hosts faded back into their original human forms at an alarming pace, eradicating all traces of Saiyan genes.

It was worrisome. No one, not even Bardock, could make neither hide nor hair of this strange phenomena. The leftover shells were unhelpful for interrogation or research, as the humans were left in vegetative or comatose states, unable to respond to any stimuli they were presented with.

Vegeta suddenly felt his instincts screaming at him and he tensed. He had barely turned around when a hand grabbed his shoulder.

"What the hell are _you _doing here?"

He found himself looking into the blue eyes of Bulma Briefs.

_Ah, shit._

* * *

Bulma normally loved parties, but at this one she felt like crap.

It wasn't the event itself. This was one of her dad's conventions, and she was very happy for him for discovering...oh, what was it again?

She had been distractedly glum ever since the dragon ball incident, as she had come to call it, and mourned the loss of her dragon radar. It would take three or four years to build a replacement. Not to mention, she needed an actual dragon ball to make the thing _work. _

She scanned the extravagant ballroom, where everyone who was anyone were present. Daddy had really outdone himself on this one, she thought proudly.

Bulma walked to the dining table, putting random things onto her plate. She threw a sideways glance at the man next to her and did a double take. His plate was filled with food that was now in a pile higher than his head. It was an assortment of mismatched cuisine; from grapefruits to drumsticks to rice. Bulma felt annoyance. "Hey, you jerk! Just because it's all paid for doesn't mean that you can eat all the food!"

The man glared at her audacity. "Watch your tongue, girl. You have no idea who you're talking to."

Bulma glared right back, which seemed to surprise him. "I don't need to know who you are, mister. My father is the one who organized this party, and I won't stand for you taking advantage of his generosity!"

"You're Brief's daughter, then?" he leered. "Well, you obviously didn't get your looks from him. Perhaps we could go upstairs and put that big mouth of yours to good use."

The heiress flushed angrily. "Now you listen here! I am Bulma Briefs! Genius and heiress, not some common whore!"

Recognition flashed over his face and the man's demeanor changed abruptly. He straightened his collar, looking down at her regally, all traces of his previous leer gone. "I apologize for my impropriety and the food - I often forget that I don't need all that much in this body."

She cocked her head, confused and mistrustful. What did _that_ mean? "Apology accepted, I suppose." She thrust out her hand. "Bulma Briefs."

"Vincent Prince." Bulma winced. His grip was strong. The man rubbed his chin. "Bulma, eh? I believe my son has mentioned you once or twice. Are you one of his friends?"

"Your son?" Bulma searched her memories for someone with the surname Prince and came up empty. "No, I don't think so. What's his name?"

"Vincent Prince Jr. Passing on names is a family tradition." Vincent Sr added upon noticing her look.

"No, I've never met him. He's mentioned me, you say? Maybe he's a fan of my work. How old is he?" Bulma's eyes gleamed. There was no reason not to have a bit of fun. If the son had inherited his father's genes, he'd be quite the looker. Even if the man was a lecherous DILF.

"I believe he's about your age." Vincent Sr replied absently, distracted by the large amounts of food he was shoving into his mouth. "Maybe a year older, or ten younger."

"What?" Bulma asked warily. Was the man senile?

Vincent Sr nodded and pointed to a secluded corner of the room without looking. Bulma followed his finger, all thoughts of his senility flying out the window when she saw what, or rather who, he was pointing at.

She stormed over and grabbed the child's shoulder. "You! What the hell are you doing here?"

He looked up at her, startled. Then his face smoothed, morphing into a lazy smirk. "I believe I was invited."

Bulma took a deep breath to stop herself from slapping that smirk off his face. It wouldn't do to be labeled a child abuser, even if she was quite sure that this was not an actual child. "Vincent Prince Jr?" she waited for his nod. "Why did you take my dragon balls?"

"Magical objects that could grant any wish? Gee, I don't know. Perhaps I wanted to wish for a lifetime supply of useless red fruits." His tone was mocking, grating on her nerves.

"How did you know about that?" She demanded, shaking him slightly.

"Know about what?" he replied innocently.

"My strawberry wish!" she snapped. "You know what- forget it. Where are the dragon balls?"

"Why would I tell you?"

"Because they're mine!"

"Not from where I'm standing."

Bulma glared at him. For a disconcerting moment, she saw another face, with wilder hair and that same smug smirk. "What are you?"

His smile dropped. "You already know my name."

"I didn't ask _who _you are, I asked _what _you are." She watched his face carefully for any reaction, but it was carefully blank.

"You're going to have to elaborate on that." he said tonelessly. "As I recall, your Muten Roshi also had the ability to manipulate ki. You have not accused him of being anything other than human."

Human. He had immediately come to that conclusion without prompting. She had expected him to deny it, or avoid the subject by saying he was a child or something else that stated the obvious. This made things easier.

She met his gaze fiercely. "No human can stand up to a Saiyan."

* * *

Vegeta narrowed his eyes. _That was awfully direct..._ Just how much information had she gleaned from their bond? And how exactly had she obtained this information? Had she dreamt of his life as much as he did of hers, or had she experienced hallucinations or some other variation of it?

(He paused to acknowledge just how creepy that sounded.)

"This isn't the place to speak of these matters. Meet me in half an hour." he finally said, holding a hand up to stall her protests. "I swear upon my honor that I won't run. There are just things that I need to clear up with my father."

She nodded. "Alright. Where?"

He shrugged. "It's your place. You pick."

"The gardens then," she decided.

"Fine."

The woman left, mingling with her Earthling friends. He plastered a smile on his face and tugged on King Vegeta's trousers as an attention-seeking child would. The man smiled at him indulgently, sending apologetic looks to the congressman he was speaking with, and following him to a less crowded area. As soon as he was relatively alone with his father, he snapped.

"What the fuck did you tell her?"

"Watch your tone, boy." Vegeta Sr said warningly. "I am still your King and I deserve respect."

"For throwing me into the pits of hell for ten years," Vegeta seethed. "By not killing you, I've given you far more 'respect' than you deserve. Now what the fuck. Did. You. Tell. Her?"

Vegeta Sr snarled at the blatant superciliousness, but answered. "Nothing. Merely where you were and that you are my son."

"Why? You knew who she was and what she'd want to find out."

"Perhaps I desired to see an entertaining row." It was what he said, but what Vegeta could read was this; _I want to leave you in someone's care when I am not around. The woman is intelligent and worthy._

So she had earned his father's approval? What exactly had he told the King about her that made him like her? He remembered describing the blue harpy as loud, demanding, and easily angered.

"I don't need a babysitter, father."

King Vegeta's eyes glittered with mischief. "That was not what I had in mind."

The younger scowled as the king walked away. He couldn't help but feel like he was being manipulated. If you had asked him ten years ago, he would have answered with certainty that his father would not do anything to harm him. But a decade of living under a Machiavellian tyrant had taught him that anyone could stab him in the back, especially those he trusted.

"Well, joke's on you." Vegeta grumbled at his father's retreating back. "Because I'm not going to tell her anything now."

Whatever his father had planned, he didn't want to be a part of it. He wasn't going to be anyone's pawn, ever again.

* * *

The gardens were more of a neatly trimmed forest, interspersed with a few man-made objects to keep the plants flourishing. There were plump fruits and splashes of rainbow-colored flowers amongst the green leaves, along with a confined space for potted plants nearby (he thought he heard the humans call it a greenhouse, although he wasn't sure why, as it was neither green nor a house.), as well as an auditorium for large scaly animals (dinosaurs, he remembered).

Kakkarot had been lounging in an apple tree for the past two hours.

He hadn't meant to ditch Vegeta as soon as the party started, it was just that it was so _boring. _All they did was stand around and talk about scientific stuff that he didn't understand. He doubted his friend understood, or cared, either. But unlike Vegeta, he didn't have any obligations as a prominent figure in the society.

He snickered, imagining the look on Geta's face when he'd discovered that Kakkarot had high-tailed it out of there. Oh, he was gonna be so pissed.

Apples swayed in the gentle breeze. He looked up at them longingly, wishing that he could actually eat it. Sometimes, he could turn tangible, just as long as he didn't have to touch anything living. When this happened for extended periods of time, he made sure to stuff his face as much as possible. Unfortunately this was not one of those times, he noted sadly, watching his hand pass through the fruit.

A rustle followed by muted cursing came from the bushes below. He craned his neck to see a blue-haired woman brushing leaves off her dress. Surprised, he realized that it was the same woman that had been at Mount Frypan that day(-the one that shared a bond with Vegeta, as he had later explained). He frowned guiltily at the reminder, shame overtaking him. The crazy attacks were proof that he could not control himself, and he had nearly killed his princess in the process. She probably wanted nothing to do with him now, he noted despairingly.

_When did she become _my _princess..?_

Then a thought struck him. Maybe she'd give him a chance if he could only explain what had happened. He hadn't been entirely in control of his actions after all, therefore could not be held responsible for them. Perhaps she'd understand...

But how to tell her? He couldn't exactly barge into her home. That would probably freak her out.

Something pricked at his senses and he glanced down, balking when he saw that Vegeta was now next to the blue-haired woman.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

"Bullshit! You knew about Saiyans, you could survive a fight against them, now what the fuck are you?"

"A person."

"Asshole!"

"I'm that too."

His boss sounded amused if anything. Kakkarot shook his head in bewilderment. Did the blue-haired woman not know about the humanized Saiyans? It didn't make sense. Vegeta surely would have told her something so basic, since a bond would represent a certain amount of trust between the two. He had assumed that the prince would be happy to meet her in person. Yet Vegeta's solitary nature was probably the cause for keeping her at a distance. Perhaps he should interfere, give his friend a push in the right direction.

"Fine. If you won't tell me what you are, then at least tell me about that other Saiyan who looked like Goku."

That piqued his interest. Kakkarot leaned over the branch to listen more carefully.

Vegeta pondered this for a moment. "I'll tell you about Kakkarot if you tell me about Son Goku."

The person in question bashed his head on a tree, felt it pass through the bark, then settled for groaning. Of _course _he was the collateral damage.

The human woman spun an elaborate tale of mountains, dinosaurs, and Gohans. He listened with masochistic intrigue. Apparently, his body had fallen from a cliff. The impact cracked his skull, giving him a completely different persona. That was probably when he got booted out. The woman, who was called Bulma, had found his body-Son Goku-living alone on Mount Paozu. She then invited him to look for the dragon balls with her. Kakkarot noticed that she evaded the topic on why she wanted Son Goku as a tag-a-long, but if Vegeta did, he did not say anything.

"We were searching for the sixth dragon ball when you showed up." Bulma finished.

Vegeta stayed silent, looking contemplative.

"Well?" Bulma prompted.

"Well what?" his boss replied blankly.

"Kakkarot! Tell me about him!" the blue-haired woman nearly screeched.

"Oh that." Vegeta paused, and Kakkarot could feel his phantom heart beating against his nonexistent ribcage. _What is he going to tell her? Oh crap oh crap oh crap. He's got too much black mail material on me! What if she tells Chichi? She'll hate me! Aaaaaggghhh! Vegeta, for once in your life please DON'T be an utter bastard._

His friend's gaze flickered up to his hiding spot. And Vegeta smirked. Kakkarot felt his heart drop to his toes.

The prince looked at him evilly, then... bluffed.

"He's got Intermittent Explosive Disorder." Vegeta said. "It's a condition where someone gets pissed off randomly."

"Really." Bulma responded disbelievingly.

"Really. Now if that's all you want to know, I'll be taking my leave."

"Wait!" The woman grabbed his arm. Kakkarot winced at the impending explosion.

"Woman, let go off me."

"What about my dragon balls? I need them back!"

"Woman, let. Go."

Not listening, Bulma tightened her grip, swinging the boy around to face her. "Vincent-"

Vegeta was suddenly hovering in the air and he had her by the throat. "I am only going to say this once. Do not touch me, bitch." He leaned in close. "And there's no fucking way you are ever going to get your precious dragon balls back."

He threw her backwards. Kakkarot cringed at the rough sound of impact when she crashed into his tree, making his seat shudder.

"Wait." The woman said weakly. "Please."

Vegeta didn't slow.

"Please!" Bulma yelled, desperation seeping into her voice. "I need the dragon balls to find someone! He's been suffering his whole life, and I need to help him. I-I don't even know what's happened to him, if he's injured or dying. Please, Vincent." She was crying now, deep, wracking sobs that made her whole body tremble.

Vegeta had stopped by now, but he kept his back to her. Finally, he answered. "What makes you think he needs your help?"

It was said out of curiosity, Kakkarot knew, but it still came out cruel and deliberately hurtful. The woman's sobs intensified.

After a short period of silence, Vegeta continued towards the ballroom, saying over his shoulder. "The one you are searching for is fine, woman. If you want to use the dragon balls to find him, you'd be wasting your time. He doesn't need your concern."

"Please," Bulma's broken whisper echoed in the breeze.

* * *

**Vegeta's a right bastard, isn't he?**

**Soo.. Sorry I didn't do the part I said I would in chapter 8. This one turned out to be too long, so I had to split it into two, maybe three chapters.**

**R&R**!

**'A year older' meaning that Vegeta is actually a year older than Bulma. 'Ten younger' meaning that his human body is ten years younger than Bulma.**


End file.
